


Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Part 1

by Elysia45



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Angst, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, Heavy Angst, Lavellan/Solas Angst (Dragon Age), Love Triangles, M/M, Minor Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Minor Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Minor Fenris/Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Multi, Other, Past Lives, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Spirits, but not in the way everyone is used to, like im talking sloooow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 96,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysia45/pseuds/Elysia45
Summary: Fane Lavellan. A Dalish elf with a chip on his shoulder. A Dalish elf who feels no kinship with his own people. A Dalish elf welcome nowhere and yet finds himself in the most unlikely of places. At the age of 15, Fane finds himself subjected to his father's sick magical experiments. All in an attempt to spare his sister, Mhairi, from his father's madness. Though he succeeded for five long years, the endeavor left Fane completely changed. Now, he is 24, his father is gone, and Fane's left to pick up the pieces of his mind and scarred body while continuing to keep his sister safe from the rising war between the mages and templars. Fane, however, had no idea that it would lead him down a path of secrets, both ancient and new. Thrust into a conflict he has no interest in, he must face the sordid details of his past while trying to save his present with the growing power of the Inquisition and continue to do what he has always done: Endure. No matter the cost.This is a story of trauma, loss, love, and twisted truths. This is Inquisitor Fane Lavellan's reluctant journey to uncover his purpose and place in a broken, unwelcoming world.Starting from Haven and stopping at Skyhold.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Fen'Harel/Lavellan (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Male Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue-Why We Must Endure

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Welcome to my first ever fanfic published to this site! After several months of having this idea in my head, I finally decided to get it out and as a result, my mind went completely ham. So, this a fic centered around my two Inquisitiors, Fane and Mhairi Lavellan. This story focuses on Fane as the Inquisitor, but Mhairi will be a focal point as well. These two are dear to me as characters and I hope you all enjoy the story I've created! So, join me as I tell you the tale and I welcome any advice and constructive criticism. Enjoy!  
> Also, Dragon Age obviously does not belong to me and belongs to Bioware.  
> Edit: I am currently working on going back through and tweaking some things in the chapters. Mainly my horrible habit of switching from present tense to past tense. This story is meant to be told from third person past tense. And I hadn't realized just how many chapters I hadn't done that in before going back through them. So, suffice it to say, it'll take me a while. So if you notice any inconsistencies or head bouncing, I apologize. It gets much better in the later chapters.

_ Blood. It is an element of life that is intrinsic to every creature; alive or dead. It either flows through you or...out of you. However, it is not this fact that lures a predator to their wounded prey. It is not the reason a healer rushes to a dying warrior’s side.  _

_ It is the  _ **_smell_ ** _. The indescribable scent of newly smithed metal and putrid flesh. A mixture of both life and death. It is a smell that lingers for hours upon hours even if the source is no longer there. The memory lingers just as the scent itself does. It may fade, but does it ever truly disappear?  _

_ It was this very scent that piqued Fane’s interest. It was strong. Very strong. As if someone had submerged his head in a basin full of fresh blood and refused to let him come up for air. He felt heavy and light at the same time, like a fog had clouded his mind.  _

_ Through sheer will, Fane cracked his eyes open. The images his eyes tried to show him are nondescript. He couldn’t focus on a single point. It was as if the smell of blood was keeping his other senses from functioning properly. His hearing was no better. He could make out dead whispers and shuffling, but no more than that. _

_ Where was he? Why couldn’t he remember anything before this? Instead of forcing his dulled senses to sharpen, he didt he next thing that came to mind; move. And what a terrible mistake that had been. The second he tried to shift a muscle pain wracked his entire being. White hot and unbearable pain. A pain that went beyond the physical. It went to his very  _ **_soul_ ** _!  _

_ A scream rose from the hollow chambers of his lungs, but before it could come out, a hand grabbed his face and slammed itself over his mouth. That snapoed his senses from their slumber.  _

_ His vision finally focused. The sounds around him made his ears ring. The acute pain he felt before had now become much worse. But what had his heart pounding so hard it felt as if it might burst is the  _ **_sight_ ** _ of blood around him.  _ **_ON_ ** _ him.  _

_ “Hush. No screaming. Remember?”, a low voice whispered to him. _

_ A voice. It was quiet, but Fane could sense an almost amused tone to it. Fane rose his gaze upwards from the blood pooled around him and what he saw had his mossy green eyes widening. _

_ The man above him was smiling serenely, but Fane could see the calculating tone behind his familiarly colored eyes. The man let out a heavy sigh. The hand not firmly clamped around Fane’s mouth ran through ashen brown hair.  _

_ “You truly make this difficult, Fane. How many  _ **_times_ ** _ must I go over the rules with you!?”, the man angrily hissed as the hand on his face tightened to a vice like grip. The force had Fane almost in tears. _

_ Fane’s green eyes became wild with hysteria. His throat constricted with sheer panic and... _ **_fear_ ** _. This seemed to be the reaction the man standing over him was looking for because as he read the fear in Fane’s eyes, he let a wide grin grace his features. _

_ “Ahh, there it is. It seems you understand now. You remember why you have to be silent, yes?”, the man with ashen haired man coos, somewhat stroking Fane’s cheeks as if they were a treasure. _

_ Fane nodded his head harshly and felt his body begin to tremble. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t cry. He must  _ **_endure_ ** _! If he lets out even a whimper...Mhairi would have to take his place. He would not let that happen. He could take any pain if it meant she is spared this horror. Mhairi cannot see this. She cannot see her older brother strapped to a wooden table as blood poured from every inch of skin covering his body. She cannot see the magic that was forced into his body every time it was about to expire. She cannot see the patchwork that was his arms, his legs, and his torso. She cannot see that the one that does this to him was their..father.  _

_ The man went back to smiling fondly at him and slowly released Fane’s face that is now streaked with silent tears.  _

_ “There’s a good boy. We don’t want to wake up your sister, do we? Trust me, my son, all of this pain is just a stepping stone towards becoming something greater. Something ancient, but new. However, since you have no magical talent, it makes things more..difficult. You’ll thank me one day, my child.”, his father explained calmly as he turned away and Fane could hear the clinking of metal and glass. His heart began to hammer painfully in his chest.  _

_ “I can endure. I can endure.  _ **_I must endure_ ** _!”, Fane chanted hysterically in his mind.  _

_ He continued the falsely encouraging mantra as his father turned back around to face him with a gentle smile. However, Fane could see the madness in his earthy green eyes and it only seemed to heighten as he saw the trepidation reflected in Fane's own green eyes.  _

_ “You’ll be more than any elf has ever been, my dear child. From the moment you were born, I knew, I just  _ **_knew_ ** _ , you had this potential. Mala suledin nadas.”, said his father with terrifying fervor as Fane felt the sharp edge of the knife begin to carve into his right arm.  _

_ The pain he felt immediately has him thrashing uncontrollably against the restraints binding him to the wooden table. Fane whipped his head back and forth as tears spill from tightly shut eyes as he tried to shut out the sensation of his father peeling the cut flesh back forcefully. _

_ “Suledin. Suledin.  _ **_Suledin!_ ** _ ”, Fane repeated over and over silently within the confines of his mind.  _

_ He must endure! Not just for himself, but more importantly, his sister. His Mhairi. His reason for continuing to live on in this blighted world! She must never see this. She must never know this! _

_ At the thought of his sister, Fane heard a harsh bang against what he believed was a door. It was hard to make out what exactly is being so fiercely battered on with the searing pain coursing through his veins as his father poured lyrium and his own magic into the opening he made in his arm. The banging became more insistent as the pain climbed in intensity. He couldn't open his eyes anymore. The pain was too intense. Too hot. Too much! He felt the pull and the push of flesh. He could hear the squelching of flesh being separated from muscle and tendon. He  _ **_smelled_ ** _ that familiar scent of blood as it poured down in rivulets from his arm to the table to the wooden floors of the aravel.  _

_ “ _ **_Suledin! Suledin! Vir enasalin!”,_ ** _ his fading mind cried, Fane’s tears slowly drying as his body became numb to his fate. _ ****

_ The banging became so loud that Fane swore that it was his heart beating in his ears. That was, until he heard the distant sound of a lilting voice. It was faint, but he could almost hear it. Why couldn’t he hear it more clearly!? He knew this voice, but whose was it!? Another ripping of flesh had his concentration snatched away immediately from that lilting voice. And through it all, he did not scream. He did not cry out. He is silent. He endured..in silence. As the feeling of torn flesh and burning magic became even more unbearable the door that was the source of the furious banging, flew open and cracked against the wall as it swung.  _

_ “Brother!” _


	2. Chapter 1-An Apparition Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few parts will be mainly character description and foundation building, so that people can get a visual of Fane and Mhairi, but it will start to pick up very quickly after the first two chapters!

Fane’s deep green eyes flew open at the call of his sister’s voice. He laid paralyzed on his bedroll as his heart hammered wildly in his chest, the thumping so harsh that he could barely hear the melodic chirping of morning birds just outside the window. His eyes darted from wall to wall of the aravel, fixating on little defining features to help him put his whereabouts together again.

“ _Where..? I was..he was..”, his mind tried to desperately piece together._

The thoughts dissolved immediately upon a violent shudder to his body and his stomach constricting suddenly. Fane tasted more than he felt the bile rising in his throat and his body lurched upwards, momentary paralysis completely forgotten. He rose from his sleeping spot shakily and rushed for the wash basin on the other side, immediately emptying the contents of his stomach into the basin’s clean water. He heaved harshly into the basin until it felt as if his entire stomach had nothing more to give and he was simply dry heaving painfully. As the vomiting episode subsided, Fane heaved a deep and shaky sigh, slowly lifting his head to meet his reflection in the small mirror above the basin. 

What he was met with had his mind finally lining up with his earlier thoughts. Short, but messy snow white hair sat atop his head, a few longer pieces brushed the shells of his long pointed ears. His hair was generally messy, but now it was sweat soaked and stuck to his forehead and the nape of his neck. It also used to be the same color as his mother’s which was a very posh blonde, but father saw to the gradual decay of that, didn’t he? Fane scoffed angrily at the thought. He curbed the anger he feels, for the moment, as his eyes trailed down the expanse that was his angular face and he hesitantly reached a hand up to trace the bold lines of his chosen vallaslin. Thick, forest green vines adorned the area under his eyes and reached up around them, creating a subtle wing at the outer corner of his eyes and then continuing upwards to his brow line and forehead. 

_"Sylaise. That’s right."_ , his mind supplied helpfully. 

Yes, he had chose Sylaise’s vallaslin. That’s right. To honor the role of the provider, for that was what he was to the clan. A hunter. A protector. 

Fane let his hand fall back to the rim of the basin with a thud and continued to gaze at himself in the mirror, fixated. He pinpointed every small and large freckle that lies across his cheeks and nose. Even with the dark lines of the vallaslin, he could still make out the myriad of freckles dusting his ivory colored skin. He could also see that he was more pale than usual as well. Dark circles hung below his eyes from lack of sleep. The memories of what he now had deduced as a nightmare threaten to push themselves into the forefront of his mind, nearly causing him to heave again. 

Fane reached a scar stitched arm over to a smaller pan of water next to the larger basin and splashed his face with the ice cold water which caused him to take a sharp intake of breath at the change in temperature. Fane stared at his arms next after he dried the water from his face. They are laced with as many shapes as you could imagine. Some were clean, straight lines. Others seem jagged and messy where something got caught on a stubborn bit of muscle and was then forced down to create an incision. His skin was something like that of a quilt. There were square patches of his skin where it was reattached after being pulled back for too long and now the color was a sickly greyish complexion instead of the pure ivory that was his face. Much of his body was the same. A patchwork of skin and ambition, so he hid it under leathers and cloth most of the time. It was for the best, he supposed. No one in the clan knew what his father had done to him for five years before he suddenly disappeared, leaving him broken and bloody, and leaving Mhairi confused and heartbroken. Mhairi didn’t know what had transpired either and it was best that she never found out. He would not taint his sister with worry and grief over his situation and as much as he wished to destroy the heroic image his sister painted their father with, he could not. It gave her hope that father would return. That the ass hadn’t abandon them for no reason. Fane knew the truth though. He _did_ abandon them. He left without a word and left nothing of his belongings. His scarred hands grip the basin tightly, turning his knuckles white. With a deep breath, Fane rose his eyes to look at himself in the mirror once more. This time, he fixated his vision on his eyes and to this day, the sight made him undeniably sick. The hue was that of his father’s. Mossy green around the outer edges, but slowly turning to a golden emerald as they reached his pupil. His vallaslin only accentuated the golden flecks and deep green edges, and that thought made him snarl viciously under his breath. The color of his eyes changed in the light, taking on a more golden shimmer. In the darkness, they were as razor sharp as a dagger, piercing and hard as stone. 

_“Just like father’s.._ ”, Fane thought bitterly as suppressed fury rose in his chest.

He angrily jerked his head away from his reflection and stared pointedly at the clusters of elfroot and blood lotus that his sister had hung out to dry above her own sleeping area. Fane felt some tension leave his shoulders as he thought of his little sister. Mhairi was his everything and would be until the day he died. No one and nothing would _ever_ come close to the same level. He promised mother that much before she passed away and he’ll be damned if he abandoned it. It was his _duty_ to protect her. To guide her as much as she guided him. He would protect her from anything and everything. It was why he had allowed father to begin his crude magical experiments in the first place. To protect Mhairi. Fane remembered the derisive sneer of his father as he proclaimed, at fifteen, to be the subject of his father’s experiments. However, after the first few..sessions..Fane’s father became enthralled with his resistance and tenacity even as tears poured down his face. It wasn’t like Fane had had much of a choice in the matter, anyways. Father had been cruel. So cruel. He set the rules after the first time Fane screamed in pure agony as a knife cut deep into his flesh. No screaming. No crying. No telling anyone. He had to.. **_endure_ ** _._ Otherwise, father would have replaced him with Mhairi in his horrific experiments. He could bear any excruciating circumstance so long as his sister was safe. Whether it be physical or psychological. And so he endured for five long, agonizing years before his father left and to this day he still doesn’t understand the reasoning behind it all. The goal was lost in a mist along with his father. 

Since those experiments however, Fane swore he’s heard quiet whispering and a presence in the back of his mind, but cannot latch onto the source no matter how hard he tried and the failures only leave him furious and confused. Along with the dead whispers, his raw strength had become much more heightened, especially as he grew older. It had been one of the reasons he chose to train with swords rather than a flimsy bow or tiny daggers. He would not be weak. He could not be weak. The most defining characteristic though had to be his unquenchable ire. At times, the rage became so keen and deafening that Fane couldn't even hear himself think, and would end up destroying something in the process before it abated. Many a hunter had walked away from him with a bloody, broken nose or a fractured bone due to him and his anger. His anger had gotten him in more trouble than he could count, and if not for Mhairi, he would have left the clan or would have been thrown out by now. 

Fane let out a defeated sigh and stood up straight. The shock of last night’s nightmare slowly receding from his body. He ran his hands through his bleached hair and then pulled his tunic off to replace it with a clean one. He pulled on a deep green sleeveless tunic which is etched with intricate vines on the corners in a deep orchid color. He wrapped most of his body in his bear hide leather wrappings before pulling on the tunic so that his arms and legs were covered, leaving just his feet and hands bare. He then pulled on his leather trousers and slips on a pair of brown leather gloves that leave just his fingers exposed. 

Fane ruffled his hair halfheartedly to tame it to some degree and looked at himself once more in the mirror before grabbing his longsword from the corner and making a silent vow to himself.

“ _I will not let history repeat. I will not allow the shadows of the past to dominate me. I will not allow my sister to know horror and loss because of that monster. Var enasalin. We shall endure. And by Elgar’nan, I will one day have that man’s head on a pike even if I must die to see it done!”,_ Fane pledged to himself vehemently.

And with that, Fane turned towards the door of he and his sister’s aravel and left with his head high and his back straight, but not before leaving leaving a deep, sword carved mark into the frame of the door, a silent confirmation of his vow, which he did every time one these terrors visited him. Meanwhile, a quiet presence, silently slumbering, watched on in sick satisfaction. 

“Fane Lavellan. Interesting.” 

The presence then faded as quickly as it had appeared. 


	3. Chapter 2-Time Binds and Changes but Never Truly Erases

The harsh rays of the morning sun made Fane involuntarily narrow his eyes. Generally, early morning wasn’t this bright, so it struck Fane as odd for it to be so. He gazed upwards to gauge the position of the sun and what he saw had him groaning outwardly. It’s near noon. He had slept until noon! The revelation had him crouching low to the ground as he let his head droop between his bent knees. He was dead. He was completely, undeniably dead.  
“There you are!”, a high pitched voice exclaimed from a distance, making his pointed ears twitch with interest.  
At the exclamation, Fane’s snow white head snapped up mechanically. Ahh, there it was. The angel of death. The harbinger of destruction. The sweet, sweet deliverance he had always secretly yearned for. Before his mind could even begin to rattle off more eclectic titles, he spotted small bare feet only a few feet in front of him as he slowly rose his gaze upwards toward the gentle, but stern voice above him.  
“By Mythal, brother! I’ve been banging on the door for over an hour to get you up! You never sleep this late!”, a girl with long platinum blonde hair said to him with a stern consternation.  
Fane heaved what he though was his umpteenth sigh that morning as he lowered his gaze back down to the ground once more. No death, yet? How disappointing.  
“Yes, yes, I know. Ir abelas, sister. I..had trouble sleeping..”, Fane said with slight hesitation, his emerald eyes narrowing at the green grass beneath his bare feet.  
At the sudden stutter, Mhairi gave him a worried frown and crouched down to match his stance. She craned her neck to meet her ice blue eyes with his own emerald green.  
“Trouble sleeping..? Are you not feeling well? Is something troubling you? Maybe I could help you with one of my sleeping powders! Or..or I could use some healing magic!”, Mhairi rambled worriedly, holding her small hands up to hover by his freckled face.  
Fane blinked in surprise, but couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle as he shook his head slowly, causing his hair to rub against the tips of his pointed ears.  
“And here I thought I was about to meet my death. I should have known better than to think you’d be angry about me sleeping late.”, Fane said to his worried sister with a hint of disappointment in his deep voice.  
Mhairi made an indignant noise as she jumped to her feet with a soft pout on her lips. Fane lifted his head to follow his little sister's movements with slightly wide eyes.  
“I’m not angry! I was worried! You have routines, Fane! It’s odd when you break them..”, Mhairi cried with the pout still on her pink lips, but Fane could see the look of worry in her bright blue eyes.  
At that admission, Fane pushed himself up into a standing position which had him towering over his sister by at least a foot or two. There he went again, worrying her over his own problems. The whole reason he hid these kind of things in the first place was so she _didn't_ have to worry about him. He rested one hand on his hip and looped his other hand’s thumb into the buckle that’s attached to his longsword to his opposite hip.  
“I know, Mhairi. Don’t worry. I’m fine. Aren’t I always?”, he assured with a faint smile, his face feeling tight with the effort of the expression.  
Mhairi continued to stare pointedly away from him and pout, her arms crossed. Fane watched her for several minutes as he took the time to check over her. Unlike him, Mhairi was small and lithe. She was smaller than most of the female elves in their clan whereas he was visibly larger than most of the males. Where he had hard muscle, she had delicate curves. Fane noticed she was wearing the new white and green embroidered tunic he had the clan’s craftsman make for her since her with her old one, she ended up incinerating it due to one of her fire spells going a little sideways. That thought made him inwardly sigh.  
 _“I wish she would stick to her ice spells. At least ice you can thaw..”,_ he thought with bemusement.  
Fane shook his head slightly at his impulsive sister as he looked over her face for any injuries or signs of trouble. He traced the lines of her soft pink vallaslin that framed her cheekbones and lower cheeks as well as outlining the entire sockets of her eyes. There wer also thicker lines branching up onto her forehead and then a much thinner line running down the length of her pointed nose. The vallaslin then broke off from her cheeks as a separate section lined the middle of her bottom lip as it then raced down the expanse of her neck into a ribcage like design. The vallaslin of June, the Craftsman. Fane remembered the day Mhairi came to him with her decision of her preferred vallaslin. He was confused at first since he attributed to her wanting Mythal’s branching pattern, but when she simply said it was because mother had had the same vallaslin of June, then it had all made sense to him. Mhairi had always wanted to connect to their mother since she passed away when his sister was still very young. As far as Fane was concerned however, Mhairi was the spitting image of their mother with or without the vallaslin. Mhairi had the same long, over the shoulder hair that looked like starlight when the sun or moon reflected off it. Fane noticed she had a section braided today with a pink ribbon entwined between the strands. He had once had the same shade of blonde as her until.. He shook his head a bit more visibly now. No. Those thoughts served no purpose now. It was done, and there was nothing he could do to get it any of what he lost back.  
Mhairi obviously caught the movement because her petulant stance dispersed as she leveled him with a furrowed brow. Her cerulean blue eyes searched his golden speckled green ones.  
“Are you sure everything’s all right? You seem trapped in your own mind, brother..”, Mhairi asked carefully as her small frame leaned towards him.  
Fane froze slightly before forcing himself to relax, his thumb around the buckle of his sword tightening minutely.  
“I’m fine, Mhairi. Leave it.”, he growled tiredly, his head beginning to throb from irritation.  
Fane internally berated himself for his tone. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. He was more temperamental than usual due to the lack of sleep and the recurring nightmare he had the previous night.  
Mhairi worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she let out a sad sigh. She lifted her gentle eyes up to his before she carefully inched closer. Fane watched her curiously and warily. What was she doing now? He hated how much he can never predict his sister’s actions. She was the only one that could catch him off guard most of the time. Especially in moments where he was emotionally vulnerable. It left him feeling a bit..weak, and he despised being weak.  
“Ir abelas, brother..”, Mhairi whispered sadly.  
The moment the words left his sister’s lips, Fane felt her wrap her arms around the middle of his torso. He blinked several times as he processed what was happening, and had to will his body not to tense up or allow a wince to leave his lips from her catching his tunic against the more sensitive scars that lie beneath. Fane sighed heavily as he gingerly lifted the hand that rests on his non sword bearing hip up to gently pat Mhairi’s back. He had never been good with open affection like this, even with her.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that’s sorry. I’m just tired, Mhairi. Let me sort my thoughts out and perhaps I’ll share them with you when I’m ready. Deal?”, he said quietly, hoping that his sister would be amenable for once.  
Mhairi rose her head to look up at him and her bright smile made him feel warm down to his bones. Thank goodness. She was in a good mood, it would seem.  
“Deal! I’ll hold you to that!”, his sister exclaimed as happiness exuded off of her.  
Mhairi released her hold on his torso which caused him to let out a relieved and silent sigh. That was another day dodged of having to explain things that he wasn’t sure he could. Fane watched as Mhairi visibly rocked back and forth on the heels and balls of her feet. She was..excited? Why was she excited? Fane raised a thick snowy eyebrow at her in question.  
“Why are you suddenly looking like you might explode?”, Fane inquired warily, his thumb tightening around the buckle of his sword even more.  
The question only made her even more giddy it seemed. Her ice blue eyes lit up until they almost sparkled under the noon high sun. Uh-oh. That was never a good sign when her eyes did that. He felt dread fill the empty void that was his chest.  
“I just remembered that the Keeper wanted me to bring you! Apparently there’s something big happening and the Keeper wanted to involve you! It has something to do with humans!”, Mhairi proclaimed excitedly, her body buzzing with excited energy.  
Fane’s face immediately fell into an unamused grimace at the mention of humans. Why was the Keeper involving him with something concerning shemlen? He knew of the whispers of war between that of their mages and templars, but that should be all the more reason for his clan to not get involved. Especially so because of the Keeper and Mhairi both being mages themselves. So, what did the Keeper have in mind? Maybe it would just be a scouting mission with some of the other hunters? Or maybe this was how he’d die? Fane groaned as he ran a hand through his bleached, choppy hair.  
“And why, pray tell, does this have you so excited, sister?”, he growled, more irritated with the Keeper than her at the moment.  
Mhairi gaped at him as the noises she made were akin to a squawking dove. He grimaced more when the sounds began to make his sensitive pointed ears buzz. He truly hated when she made those noises.   
“Why?! You might get to see a human! And maybe even _talk_ to one! Isn’t that exciting!?”, Mhairi said with renewed excitement, flailing her hands around as if to transfer her excitment onto him.  
Her voice became shrill at the end of her proclamation, causing Fane to close his eyes as the ringing in his ears intensified. This girl would be the death of him.  
“It’d be more exciting if they all dropped dead.”, he grumbled flatly, rolling his emerald eyes at his sister's enthusiam.  
Fane couldn't think of anything more despicable than having to be around shemlen. They were loud, obnoxious, violent, and smelled like decaying foliage. Not to mention, they were petty, selfish, and power mongers. Fane could write a whole essay on how he felt about humans, and he still wouldn't have covered everything! The very notion of having to be around them made him shudder with dread.  
“Brother! Don’t say that! You’ve never even met one! How can you say that when you don’t even know what they’re like?”, Mhairi whined as her face took on a disappointed frown.  
Oh, it was true, he had never met a shem before, but he has _seen_ them. He had _heard_ them. On one of the rare occasions when he would wander from the clan to go to a nearby village, he saw two male shems harassing a female elf. They acted like heathens and pigs. They groped and yanked on that poor woman until her already battered clothes were torn completely off, and when she wouldn’t submit they threw her to the ground and kicked her until she coughed up blood. Fane remembered the hot rage he felt at that scene, and had nearly climbed down from the tree he was hiding in to slit their throats. He remembered the thoughts as he watched with flaring nostrils.

 _"How dare they?! I should tear them limb from limb! Gut them! Carve their eyes from their skulls! I’ll show them to fear us!"_ , he had thought without restraint.

Those thoughts felt foreign to him when he thought about them now. He never followed through on them, of course, but something about them felt..familiar back then. Almost as if...they were not his own. Fane growled quietly. Enough. He can’t continue to dwell like a child on things that didn't matter.  
“I’ve seen them, Mhairi. Trust me when I say that the luster would fall right off. Also, I would not allow one of those shems within a yard of you.”, he snarled, the memory of his first sighting making him more agitated.  
Mhairi leveled him with an annoyed glare as she huffed petulantly.  
“There you go again. I’m not trying to run off to find a prince charming, you know? After all, if I got married, who would clean up after all your outbursts?”, Mhairi teased him gently, the annoyance still on her delicate.  
She grinned at him mischievously as she raised a thin eyebrow at him. Fane met her grin with a resolute poker face, his emerald eyes narrowing slightly. The two stared at each other for several heartbeats before Mhairi burst out into giggles as Fane managed a tiny smile in return. Mhairi's giggled died down immediately at the trace of a smile on his usually stoic face, making it disappear instantly to be replaced with a confused frown.  
“Ah-ha! I got you to smile! That’s the fifth time this week!”, Mhairi cried triumphantly even as a sad shadow flickered in her eyes at the disappearance of his smile.  
Fane tilted his head as he rose an eyebrow at her. Why must his sister always act so strange when it came to things concerning his expressions?  
“You’ve been keeping track of how many times I smile?”, he asked as he lifted his arms to cross them across his broad chest.  
Mhairi nodded happily, her blonde hair swaying against her cheeks at the movement.  
“Of course! You don’t smile as much as you used to when we were younger, so I keep track of each one so that I can figure out how to do it again.”, she explained happily.  
That made Fane pause as he made his emerald gaze look over his sister’s head. It’s true, he supposed. Ever since father’s experiments, his emotions have been greatly muted. The most he could laugh was a quiet chuckle, and smiles were fleeting and nearly unnoticeable. And crying..well, that’s another matter. Fane can’t remember the last time he shed tears. Only from involuntary reactions, if that counts as crying. Fane looked back down at his sister as broad shoulders shrugged slightly.  
“I’m not fifteen anymore, Mhairi. Time changes us.”, he stated plainly, ignoring the feeling of anguish as it burrowed itself in his blackened heart.  
Mhairi smiled sadly as she rubbed her delicate hands together. Fane's nostrils twitched as he detected the smallest amount of magic as it came from his sister's hands, the scent making his head spin for a moment.   
“I suppose, but..I’ll keep finding ways to get you to smile! It’s good for you!”, Mhairi proclaimed with renewed determination, her sadness replaced with gentle caring.  
She looked at him with such hopeful, happy blue eyes as she stood up straight, seemingly try to match his own tall stature. Fane could only shake his head as he managed another small, fond smile. His sister was such a child, always wanting to follow after him like he was a pillar of sterling examples. If only he had the courage to tell her that was far from the truth..  
“If you say so..”, he said instead, sighing tiredly.  
Mhairi laughed gently, the sound like the little chimes on the aravels as she quickly grabbed his hand. This time, Fane was prepared and managed to fight off the sting of pain as long healed scars sang with pinpricks of pain, carefully closing his own large hand around Mhairi's much smaller one.  
“I do! Now, come on! The Keeper’s already been waiting for awhile! Let’s go find out what’s going on!”, she cried happily, excitement beginning to sparkle in her icy eyes once again.  
Fane let himself be pulled along by his demanding little sister as he noticed a few of his fellow clansmen’s heads turn at the sight, as they made their way through the camp towards the Keeper’s aravel. What a sight they must have made. A large warrior of a Dalish elf being strung along by his twig like little sister. Fane wouldn’t have it any other way. If the world would see him as a beast among men then let them. After all, what mattered to him was his sister and his sister only. The whole world could burn and he wouldn’t bat an eye as long as Mhairi was safe. So, let them whisper and stare. For if he was a beast, she was the one who tamed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> Shemlen - elven slur for human or "quick children"


	4. Chapter 3- The Journey Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a bit of a jump forward. We'll start following the story line of Inquisition, but throughout I'll be taking a lot of creative liberties so as to mold a lot of lore and scenarios to Fane's character. I'll still keep canon elements canon, but most of Fane's elements are headcanon.

“You want me to do **what**?!”

The furious exclamation that could be heard from the Keeper’s aravel had everyone in the Dalish camp turning their heads and going stock still. The singing birds in the trees above them scattered into the bright autumn sky. They all knew the owner of that booming voice, and the next thing everyone did was scramble to the further reaches of the camp. Everyone knew what was about to transpire and they had to prepare for the impending destruction.

Within the Keeper’s aravel, Fane and Mhairi sat at a wooden table with Keeper Deshanna sitting opposite them on the other side of the table. That is, Fane had been sitting until the Keeper told him the last thing he ever wanted to hear. Keeper Deshanna gave him an exasperated glare.

“Fane, control yourself. Why must you throw a fit every time I ask something of you?”, the Keeper chided him firmly, waving a hand for him to sit back down.

Fane snorted derisively as he slammed his hands down onto the thin wooden table, causing Mhairi to flinch at the sound of splitting wood. Oh, this old bat thought she could calm him with a few trite words?! What was there to be calm about right now?! Especially with what she had asked of him!

“ **Control** myself?! What you ask is the last thing I **ever** wanted to do! You think I care about the petty little shemlen’s gathering?! They can all kill each other for all I care!”, he roared furiously, his snowy eyebrows twitching with barely controlled rage.

Fane was visibly panting now, his nostrils flaring in his telltale rage. He couldn't believe this! Why had the Keeper thought he would be amenable to this harebrained idea?! He could care _less_ about human peace talks! Mhairi gently laid a hand on his arm, but instantly regretted it when Fane snapped his head her way.

“And **you**! You **knew** this was what the Keeper had in mind! You understand how much I detest shemlen, Mhairi!”, he bellowed irately, ripping his arm from his sister's ginger grasp.

Mhairi shrunk under her brother’s razor sharp glare as she gazed down at her petite hands. He felt his anger abate a bit at the look of sadness on his sister's delicate face. No, he hadn't meant.. Ugh, he hated this entire conversation!

“I..I know, brother, but this isn’t just a curiosity fueled trip..”, Mhairi tried to explain to him meekly, her gaze still on her hands.

Fane roughly ran a hand through his snowy hair, ruffling the spot harshly as he dropped back into the wooden chair he had been previously sitting in before his anger took him. He let a frustrated snarl loose from his lips as he threw his glare pointedly at the Keeper.

“Speak then.”, he snapped out curtly.

Keeper Deshanna rose an eyebrow at him as she leaned forward carefully. Fane merely let his face twist into a minor sneer at the action.

“Watch your tone, da’len. This whole outburst could have been avoided had you listened in the first place. Your sister is not to blame for my decision and does not deserve to be the receiver of your continued anger. You are much like your **father** in that regard. Always allowing your anger to be your first resort, rather than your last.”, the Keeper stated with a stern glare.

Fane leaned forward slowly, the gold in his eyes flashing dangerously at the mention of his father. The Keeper had the gall to compare he and his father? Fane would never be like that asp of a man!

"Don't you **dare** compare me to that..that **creature**.", he warned through gritted teeth before leaning back forcefully, vaguely aware of his sister's minor flinch at the disdain towards their father, " **Speak**.", he growled, utterly finished with this discussion.

The Keeper gave a defeated sigh as she also leaned back in her chair gently. Mhairi looked up from her hands at her brother worriedly. Fane crossed his arms across his broad chest as he felt Mhairi's worried gaze piercing the side of his head. He would smooth things over between them later. He could take the Keeper's disappointment towards him, but not his sister's. Never his sister's.

“As I said, the mages and templars that have been at war in the human lands for the last few years have all been summoned to what their Divine has labeled the Conclave. Apparently, it is the Divine reaching out to them in one last attempt at ending the conflict peacefully. Your role, da’len, is to get close enough to listen in. We must know what outcome this meeting will bring.”, the Keeper explained plainly as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Fane rolled his eyes, not even trying to hide it from the Keeper as he scoffed loudly.

“Why should we care about the outcome? It isn’t our fight and it **never** has been. The shemlen brought this on themselves with their zealous Chantry and narrowmindedness. They either kill each other or they don’t. Either way, I don’t give a damn. Maybe once they're all dead, you sorry asses will get into gear and actually take a stand instead of being scared little kittens.”, he snarled, his lips twitching with resentment seated in his emerald glare.

This time, it wasn't Fane who slammed their hands down onto the wooden table, it was Mhairi, which caused both he and the Keeper to startle slightly. Fane blinked quickly as he looked up at his mildly angry sister with a surprised expression, his eyes going a bit cross eyed when he saw the small finger pointed at his face.

“ **Enough** , Fane! This isn’t about the ones in power anymore! Not the Chantry and not even the mages and templars! This is about **innocent** people being swept into the chaos! Children and the elderly that have nothing to do with this pointless fighting! Drop the bravado and please **listen**. Just this once!”, Mhairi exclaimed in exasperation, her small body shaking with suppressed anger.

Fane watched his sister closely as she slowly lowered herself back down into her chair, noticing that she wouldn't look him straight in the eye now. Fane tilted his head back and covered his face with a gloved hand. This obviously meant a lot to Mhairi. Why? He wasn’t entirely sure. However, the Keeper was right about one thing, his sister didn’t deserve to be the recipient of his ire. After several moments, Fane let his hand fall from his face, but continued to stare up at the wooden ceiling of the aravel, tracing the grain in the wood with tired eyes.

“...Fine.”, he muttered out bluntly.

Both the Keeper and Mhairi snapped their heads to him, staring at him with wide eyes. The Keeper was the first to speak.

“Wait..you’ll do it?”, Deshanna asked with disbelief laced in her voice.

Fane sighed heavily as he brought his head back forwards to glare at the Keeper with deep, mossy eyes. Why was the old coot so surprised? Hadn't wanted him to agree in the first place?! Tch, he truly hated today.

“Yes. I’ll do it. Evidently, this is more important than either of you are willing to divulge, so to stop myself from continuing to hurt my sister, I’ll go to the shemlen’s meeting. I’ll see what it is they agree to. But that is all. If it breaks out into open warfare, I'm leaving.”, he stated flatly, suddenly feeling a heavy weight bare down on him.

The next thing he knew, he was being hugged rather tightly from his side. It wasn't hard to figure out who was the one hugging him thankfully. Mhairi was the only one brave enough to even poke him.

“Thank you, brother! I knew you’d come around! Trust me, this won’t only be good for our people, but it’ll be good for you.”, she stated to him happily, all anger and irritation gone from her pale face.

Fane ignored the pain he felt from the hug as he glanced down at his little sister, his gaze softening slightly at her exuberant expression.

“We’ll see. It’s far more likely I’ll end up jailed or killed.”, he responded flatly, ever the pessimist.

Mhairi huffed up at him as she rolled her icy eyes.

“Must you always think of the worst case scenario?”, Mhairi said with exasperation.

Fane let out a self deprecating scoff. At times, his sister's naivety was more challenging than refreshing.

“It’s how you survive in this world, Mhairi. Sorry if that’s too inconvenient for you.”, he grumbled out as he felt his thoughts darken.

Mhairi ignored his comment and turned to the Keeper to start chatting excitedly, the two leaving him to his thoughts for the first time in the last hour.

“ _The shemlen, huh? Just great._ ”, he thought with dread, gripping the leather bindings around his arms tightly.

While it was true that he wasn't the biggest fan of humans, it was more the fact that this little adventure was going to be separating him from his sister. All that he could think about was what if their father suddenly appeared the one time that he was away and ended up doing something to Mhairi? What if bandits or demons attacked the camp and he was not here to defend it and protect his sister? What if..she wasn't _here_ when he returned? Fane grimaced at the thought as he sat up straight in his chair. He turned his orchid green eyes towards his sister and the Keeper who are both discussing preparations of his departure. Mhairi would be safe, right? She was getting better with her magic and she had been training with him to perfect her staff work so that she doesn’t always have to rely on it, but would it be enough if he wasn't here? Fane’s gaze traveled down to Mhairi’s right eye and the faint scar that adorned it had him internally snarling at himself. He failed once. He _couldn't_ fail again. He was stronger now and so was she. He just had to _hope_ everything would turn out okay for once. Then again, he had never had much hope to begin with.

As the Keeper and Mhairi continued to discuss his departure, Fane rose from his seat, hooking his sword to his hip. Mhairi turned towards him as she detected the movement, tilting her head curiously. Always the inquisitive one, his sister.

“Brother?”, Mhairi asked him with worry laced in her soft voice.

Fane glanced down at her as he finished securing his sword to his belt and gave her a very faint smile.

“I’ll be outside training.”, he said simply before turning away.

Before she can question him further, Fane strode to the door of the Keeper’s aravel, exiting into the camp. He needed to be alone. He needed to destroy something.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mhairi let her mouth fall into a worried frown as she turned to the Keeper.

“He’s being strange lately. He’s been sleeping late, he’s been barely touching his food, and he’s constantly going to the clearing to train. I’m worried, Keeper. I feel like something is going on and he won’t tell me for some reason.”, Mhairi voiced her concerns.

Keeper Deshanna smiled at her calmly, the expression making Mhairi feel a bit more at ease.

“Easy, da’len. The last several months have been stressful on the clan. The hunters have been having trouble and this war has made traveling difficult. Since your brother is our best hunter, it weighs on him heavily. I believe he thinks he’s failing the clan..no, he feels like he’s failing you. Give him time. Some battles must be fought alone, my First.”, Deshanna told her gently.

Mhairi looked down at the surface of the table with a sad frown. She wished she could ease Fane's secret burden even if he must fight his struggles alone, but she knew the Keeper was right. Fane even said that he would tell her in time. He wouldn’t lie to her about that, would he? Her brother was silent most times, but he had such passion in his golden emerald eyes. Mhairi knew he could find it in his heart to see the bigger picture even amidst his hatred. He was strong, even if he himself did not see it. With a gentle sigh, Mhairi rose from her seat.

“Ma serannas, Keeper. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go track down my brother before he destroys the forest with his pent up anger.”, Mhairi said with a hint of humor in her voice.

The Keeper chuckled good naturedly at the young First’s comment.

“Creators _guide_ you, da’len. You’ll both need it.”, the Keeper told her with a shake of her head.

Mhairi smiled sweetly as she turned to the door to quickly follows after her brother, hoping to find him before he got himself into trouble.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fane relished in the zing of metal as it connected with the soft wood of the already battered training dummy. While he would have normally smashed wooden barrels and posts, he managed to reign in his ire enough to make it to his normal spot. He had managed to hold back most of his anger while in the Keeper's aravel, but that had only been for his sister's sake. If she hadn't been there, Fane would have probably leveled the entire wagon with his bare hands. He may have finally agreed to the Keeper's idiotic request, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He would never be happy about involving himself with selfish humans. 

Fane stopped his furious slices when he heard soft footsteps in the under brush behind him. Ah, there she was. He was wondering when his sister would track him down. Surprisngly fast this time, too. He was panting from the exertion as sweat beaded along his hairline, rolling down his cheeks in thick droplets.

“That was quick. Usually it’s not until I’ve destroyed an aravel that you come looking for me.”, he said plainly as he turned to meet the frowning face of his worried little sister.

Mhairi’s frown deepened at his nonchalant statement as she walked up to him, gently handing him a small towel she grabbed before charging after him.

“Usually when you destroy an aravel, it’s a less pressing issue for your anger. It’s when you're _silent_ that I know something worse is going on in that head of your’s.”, Mhairi told him softly, her blue eyes shining with concern.

Fane took the towel gently, wiping his face off before throwing it over his shoulder where it then rested. He sighed as his body began to come down from the adrenaline that had been coursing through it and his sister's observation. Yet again, she figured him out. How quaint.

“They do say silence is deadly.”, he responded bluntly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the quiet throbs of a headache. 

Fane blinked slowly as he felt cool hands touch his cheeks, realizing that his sister was the source as he felt her magic trying to soothe the ache in his head. Fane let out a quiet sigh before feeling nausea from the scent of ice magic invading his senses. With an attempt of a delicate movement, Fane carefully pulled his sister's hands from his cheeks with a weak glare.

“Don’t strain yourself, Mhairi. I’m _fine_.”, he said with a clipped tone, trying to keep the irritation at a minimum.

Mhairi huffed as she took her hands away slowly, leveling him with an unconvinced stare. Fane took a moment to shake off the feeling of nausea before glaring back at his sister's worried stare. He didn't want to do this. Not today.

“Would you _quit_ saying that? I know you’re not fine. And I’m not just talking about this decision. You’ve been off for _months_ now. I wish you would let me know what’s troubling you, brother. I want to help..”, Mhairi pleaded with him, her eyes shining with frustrated tears.

Fane's glare softened minutely at the sight of such tears before he sighed heavily. Leave it to him to cause pain while trying to be considerate. It would never truly end, would it? He placed a careful hand on his sister's blonde head as he ruffled the silky strands playfully, watching with mild amusement as her face scrunched up into an annoyed grimace.

“I _know_ , Mhairi, but this isn’t something only words can fix. Nor magic. It’s something I have to come to terms with on my own. I promise you, little sister, I will tell you everything one day. However, that’ll have to wait until I come back from this blighted mission.”, he tried to explain to his sister, hoping his promise would appease her for now.

Mhairi swatted his hand away from her head and pouts up at him which caused him to chuckle quietly. Ever the child, she was.

“Stop treating me like a child! I’m only three years younger than you!”, Mhairi exclaimed petulantly, trying to fix the pink ribbon that was bunched up in her braid now.

Fane watched as his sister tamed her disheveled hair, resting his hand on his hip. He only treated her for what she was. And what she was, was a child. Naive and innocent. At least, that's how Fane had always viewed his sister. She was the white to his black. The sun to his moon. They were the same, but anathema to each other. And yet, it worked perfectly.

“Three years is still three years.”, he stated with a fond smile, shrugging a shoulder.

Mhairi almost went to shove him before seeing the soft smile that graced her older brother’s face. Her eyes lit up as they widened like blue saucers. Oh, lovely. He had done it now.

“That’s the **biggest** smile I’ve seen from you yet!”, his sister screeched happily, pointing at his face excitedly.

Fane raised a thick eyebrow as his smile disappeared as quickly as it came causing Mhairi to let out a sad aw.

“And you wonder _why_ I treat you like a child.”, he repeated simply as he motioned at his sister's body language to indicate his point.

Mhairi pouted and instead of retorting, she closed the distance between them and latched onto his torso firmly. Fane flinched noticeably this time around which caused Mhairi to look up at him questioningly. He managed a fake chuckle. The lengths he would go to keep his sordid past in the past.

“Just a little sore from beating on that training dummy.”, he lied to his sister as he schooled his body and his features.

When Fane saw that his sister was unconvinced, he decided to return the hug even though it nearly pulled a pained hiss from him. Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy her and even allowed him to catch an impossibly happy grin on her face before she buried it in his chest. Yup. She would truly be his demise at this rate.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid while you’re gone, Fane. I don’t want to receive word that something terrible happened because you couldn’t control yourself. _Please_..you’re all I have left, brother. First mother, then father.. I don’t need you to leave too..”, Mhairi pleaded with him from her spot against this chest.

Fane buried his own face into the crown of her head, nuzzling her fawn colored hair slowly, his eyes glaring forward into the forest.

“I would **never** leave you alone. That, I promise you, Mhairi. Nothing in this world or the Beyond could tear me from you. So, I promise to keep myself in check. And I want you to promise not to do anything reckless while I’m away. You think you can’t live without me? It’s **I** who couldn’t live without **you**. So promise me.. **Promise** me you’ll stay safe.”, he pleaded back, his voice taking on a hint of desperation.

Mhairi looked up at him from her spot, her blue eyes shining with determination and resolve. If looks could kill, that would be one of the ones that would. It should have worried him, but it just made Fane feel warm and calm. Mhairi smiled serenely as she squeezed his torso gently which he returned in kind unexpectedly, but never breaking his hard gaze from the forest.

“I promise.”, Mhairi said plainly with a firm nod of her head.

Fane grunted in approval as he finally went to pull away, but stopped when he sensed something strange around them.

“ _What..? This feeling_..”, he thought to himself, emerlad eyes widening a fraction.

Before his thoughts could finish the odd presence faded, leaving Fane nothing but the feeling of the breeze and the gentle sounds of the forest. Mhairi tilted her head at him with a concerned expression.

“Fane? What’s wrong?”, Mhairi asked with unrestrained concern.

Fane blinked quickly. What had that been? It had felt like a..a _presence_ , but it had only been the two of them here. Then what..? He shook his head once more to get rid of the chill down his spine. Maybe it had just been a deer or a rabbit. They were in the forest after all.

“Nothing. I thought I just heard something from the forest. Come on, it’s getting chilly. Let’s go back before we catch our deaths out here.”, he said slowly, still feeling uneasy about what he had felt.

With that, Fane let go of his sister before walking past her. Mhairi remained where she was as Fane's mind wandered with questions.

“There’s definitely something wrong..”, he heard his sister murmur to herself quietly, but couldn't feel inclined to dismiss her with how his mind raced.

Fane noticed no soft footsteps following and turned slightly towards his sister. He gazed at her with an annoyed expression. This wasn't the time to gawk at him. Whatever that feeling had been, it had unnerved him beyond compare. He wouldn't risk something happening to Mhairi because of his delusions.

“Come _on_ , Mhairi. It’s getting late. I know how much you like the forest, but it makes for a poor friend in the evening.”, he called to his stunned and worried sister as he watched her continue to try and work out the puzzle that was him.

Mhairi surfaced from her worried thoughts at the sound of his gruff voice, sputtering indignantly. Fane chuckled quietly at the sight before he crossed his arms with a jerk of his head towards the way back to the camp, motioning for his sister to follow.

“I’m _coming_! Don’t make fun of me!”, Mhairi cried as she skipped towards him, masking her concern with a smile.

Fane could hear Mhairi's gentle strides as he started his way back through the bushes to the camp ahead of her. Fane kept his pace slow until she caught up with him, sparing a glance down at her, and chuckled when he noticed a familiar pout on her face, but he can see the glint of mischievousness in her nearly ice lavender eyes. He wished things could stay this way. Just for a little longer. But, he had a task in front of him now and he could only hope that it would be a simple affair and it would be as if he had never left at all. He would return, one way or another.


	5. Suledin - Chapter 4 - Reluctant Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's goooooo! Time for the good stuff! I'll probably be updating this quickly or slowly depending on my mood. I'll try to be consistent if people enjoy it! I will be writing individual one shots that are separate from the main story and those will be titled separately. But for now we just have chug along on the angst train! Choo, choo!

The first thing Fane is aware of is he is surrounded by complete and impenetrable darkness. A darkness so thick and so absolute that not even sound can pierce its veil. He whips his head around in a futile attempt to ascertain his whereabouts. Where was he? What happened? The last thing he can remember is his departure from the clan a few days before. He remembers the tears in his sister’s eyes and his attempts to reassure her he’d be back within a few days. Wait. Come back? Come back from..where? Fane desperately tries to recollect where it is he went. He vigorously scrubs his freckled face with his hands and chances a glance around the void again.  
“Come on, come on! Think, you fool!”  
Fane closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to center himself then his eyes snap open. The Conclave! That Creators’ damned shemlen meeting the Keeper asked him to spy on! That’s why he left the clan, but where was he now? There was no sound, no light, and not even a breeze. The entirety of this blackened void was still. Unnaturally still. Fane looks down at the ground and shifts carefully to test the stability.  
“Seems solid at least. That’s one up side, I suppose.”  
The moment the thought crosses his mind he feels a sudden huff of hot air against his entire backside, the air rushing so strongly that it nearly throws him off balance. The void around him begins to glow an ominous crimson color. Fane freezes instantly as a feeling of deep dread strikes him down to his very core. He feels his heart hammer painfully in his chest and clutches it in a vain attempt to calm it.  
“What the hell..? What was that? Is..there something behind me..?”  
Fane attempts to crane his head back to see if there is indeed a source to the hot air and crimson glow. What he sees has his eyes widening to an almost comical size.  
Eyes. So many eyes. Too many eyes. They glow a sickly red hue and they watch him with calculating intensity. Fane is frozen on the spot as he stares back into red with green.  
“What...what in the Creators’ names is that?! Why is it staring at me?! What is this place!? And why...does this feel so...familiar?”  
That last question has Fane furrowing his brow, the deep dread momentarily forgotten. Why did these eyes seem familiar to him? The fear, the dread, and the pain they invoke in him are all familiar. Before he can continue to ruminate on these thoughts, a sharp, piercing pain surges through his head, bringing him to his knees as he grips his color stripped hair. What was this pain? It was excruciating! Fane opens his mouth in a silent cry and immediately clamps his mouth shut as another wave of pain hits him.  
“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!”  
Fane refuses to cry out and just continues to fold in on himself as the pain tears through him. Tears prick the corners of his eyes from the intensity and Fane wills them away. He will not cry. He will not scream. This pain is nothing compared to what other pain he faced! As if almost sensing the flow of his thoughts the pain hits him hard once more and has him clawing at the ground in some attempt to ground himself. The myriad of eyes behind him continue to watch with pointed interest and what seems like confusion before they begin to brighten. Fane pants harshly from exertion and feels a primal snarl tear through his lips, whipping his head around to glower furiously at the eyes watching the display.  
“ENOUGH!!!”  
His voice shakes the blackened void around him and the eyes behind him shrink back slightly, obviously surprised. Fane’s labored breath becomes harsher as the void continues to echo with his shout.  
“That..that voice.. That wasn’t my voice, but it..it came from me..”  
All of sudden Fane’s breath catches and his vision swims before him. He was losing consciousness. No. No! He needs to understand! What was that voice? Where was he? What are those eyes? What do they represent?! Who..?! His vision goes black.

Fane awakens with a gasp and hears the sound of his own labored breathing.  
“Where…?”  
The clinking of various pieces of metal draws his attention and he looks down at his hands. They’re..bound. His hands were bound with metal shackles. Fane furrowed his dark brows in confusion and shifted his body which was seated on the cold stone floor. A searing, crackling pain then ripped through his right hand. Fane grits his teeth in obvious pain and quickly looks down to determine the source. What he sees has him reeling back in slight horror. His hand is glowing with a sickening green color and seemingly pulsates like it is flowing through his veins. However, the pain it invokes is what really has him in a state of shock. It feels as if his entire arm is on fire, right down to his nerves!  
“It’s like when father would pump his blighted magic into me..!”  
Fane snarls angrily and clenches his right fist as the glow and crackling slowly subside to a dull hum. Fane chances a glance around him and becomes even more baffled. There are armed guards all around him, looking at him with a mixture of disgust and..fear. Yes, that’s what he sees in their eyes despite the room being lit by flickering torches. The violent slamming of a metal door has him snapping his head away from the scene around him. Fane watches as two humans storm into the room. Both of them are human women, that much he can tell, but the one making a beeline for him has his attention. Fane can tell from her gait and the armaments on her person that she is a warrior. Her face is sharp with high cheekbones and incredibly short black hair that is circled with a braided crown. Her eyes flash dangerously upon seeing him staring back at her, her chocolate brown eyes sharpening while her mouth turns down in a scowl. The other human hangs back, closer to the door, as if she’s assessing him and the situation, her stormy blue eyes stare at him coolly and Fane can’t gauge her expression because of her cowl which shadows her features with only glimpses of red hair peeking out around the edges and framing her delicate face. The woman storming towards him stops just in front of where he’s sitting on the ground and bends down to spit angrily right into his face.  
“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now!?”  
Fane frowns in both confusion and irritation. Kill him? He hasn’t done anything! The two women begin to circle him slowly, the guards sheathing their swords and stepping back. Fane feels cornered and the notion makes him want to scream in rage. How dare these shems?! Just like all their kind, they jump to the most convenient conclusion!  
“The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead! Except for you!”  
The heavily armored woman stands in front of him once more, leveling him with eyes filled with fiery fury. Fane glares back with the same amount of fiery ire and keeps his mouth firmly shut. He doesn’t need to explain himself to these people. He knows how humans twist words to fit their needs. He’ll not give them fuel for their fire. He’ll not be burned for something he did not do! This act of defiance only seems to anger the dark haired woman more and she surges forward to grab one of his shackled wrists, shoving the member in his face.  
“Explain THIS!”  
As quickly as she grabbed it, the woman threw his arm back down harshly which caused the sickly green light to begin glowing on his hand again and he had to bite his tongue not to show the pain it sent through his body. Fane’s eyes flashed dangerously as the pain slowly subsided and his face twisted into a furious snarl, his voice dropped to a dangerous tone.  
“Touch me again, shem and then you’ll have something to hang me with. I can’t give you the answers you want!”  
The woman’s nostrils flared with uncontrollable anger and she clenched her fists so tightly he could hear the creaking of the leather.  
“What do you mean you can’t?!”  
Fane’s scowl deepened further and he leaned forward challengingly.  
“I don’t know what it is or how it got there! I don’t even know what the hell is happening! You barge in here demanding answers when you know I have none!”  
The bulky woman surged forward and grabbed him by the front of his armor, pulling him violently and growling in his face. Fane met her growl with a snarl of his own.  
“You’re lying!”  
Fane let out a near primal sound and narrowed his eyes furiously. He would not sit here and take this inane line of questioning! Fane was about to surge into a standing position, which he found would be incredibly hard with the shackles, but he’d find a way if only so he could wipe the look of this woman’s face, before the red headed woman quickly came forward from her post at the door and grabbed the darker haired woman’s shoulders, pulling her back.  
“We need him, Cassandra! Stop.”  
Her accent was different to Fane’s pointed ears. It was..Orlesian? Yes, Orlesian. And the angrier woman’s voice was different as well, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at the moment, too wrapped up in his hatred of said woman. Both he and the woman, whose name was Cassandra apparently, were huffing furiously, like two territorial druffalos. The red headed woman stepped between them carefully and looked down at him with piercing eyes.  
“Do you remember what happened? How all of this began?”  
Fane furrowed his brow in confusion at her. Did he..remember? He remembers..pain. Darkness. The Conclave was..destroyed, but..what caused it? Fane glares up at the cowled women.  
“I simply remember darkness. I think I’d remember destroying a gigantic temple. So, no, I remember nothing before all of this.”  
This doesn’t seem to satisfy the Orlesian woman as she looks as if she’s about to ask him another question, but before she can, Cassandra steps in front of her and gently guides her towards the door.  
“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.”  
The two share a quiet nod before the one named Leliana retreats out of the dungeon. Cassandra turns back to face him with a hardened expression, he greets her with the same blank expression. She slowly comes forward and begins to undo his metal shackles, replacing it with coarse rope. Fane watches her with indifference and allows her to bind his hands, albeit ruefully. His voice drops to a low volume as she tugs none to gently on the rope.  
“What did happen? I need an explanation, you know, or nothing is going to be resolved.”  
Cassandra looks up into his eyes that flicker from gold to green from the flames. She sighs and hoists him up from the ground, motioning him to follow her.  
“It will be..easier to show you. We don’t have time for lengthy explanations.”  
Fane stands up straight as Cassandra turns her back from him. He goes to follow her out of the dismal dungeon before a barely noticeable whisper catches his attention.  
“Kill her. You have a chance. Take it.”  
Fane stands stock still for what seems like ages and feels his mind begin to fog. Kill..her? He could, couldn’t he? What would he use? His eyes slowly scan the room. A torch? A metal bar? He’d be able to bash her head against the wall. His height is equal to her’s so he could pull it off. It would be satisfying to watch her blood splatter against the stone of the dungeon. The smell would be even better. A firm yank of the rope has his mind clearing as quickly as it had fogged.  
“What are you doing?! Get moving or I’ll drag you!”  
Fane focuses his vision on Cassandra, his mossy eyes clearing from their glassy state.  
“Didn’t I tell you not to threaten me, shem? Move.”  
Fane pushes past the sturdy woman, surprised that she can take one of his shoves, and keeps his gaze fixed on the corridor ahead of him. Cassandra growls in disapproval from behind and he hears her heavy footsteps soon match his own. They soon reach stairs that lead up into whatever building they were currently in. Cassandra attempts to shove him to get him going, but the push barely causes him to rock. Cassandra lets out a disgusted snort and tries once more. Fane snaps a glare back at her and sneers.  
“Quit. Touching. Me.”  
Fane shakes her shoving hand off of him and storms angrily up the stairs, clenching his bound hands in an attempt to not whip around and clock this woman right in her sharp jaw. His whole body was in constant pain at the moment from the rough handling and it was causing his hidden scarred skin to thrum angrily. The blasted thing on his hand was not helping matters either. It seemed to pulsate along with the beating of his heart, as if the green energy was now a part of his blood. He clenched his marked hand harder and closed his eyes as the pair made their way up the stairs and out into the main floor of the building and the sight almost had him in hysterics. He was in a Chantry. He was in a dungeon. Housed in a Chantry. And he had been thrown around and accused of mass genicide in. A. Chantry. Oh the irony! Fane stopped in the hall as Cassandra joined him and shot him a look of contempt as an amused smirk graced his lips.  
“Is something funny to you?”  
Fane glances at her from the corner of his eye, a derisive smirk still plastered on his face as his voice becomes low once more.  
“Just reflecting on the hilarity of the situation. Here I am accused of mass genicide by the very people that committed the very same against my own people! What isn’t there to find funny in that?”  
Cassandra’s brown eyes widen slightly in something akin to horror. Fane’s smirk disappears quickly and stares back at her firmly before beginning to walk towards the Chantry’s main doors.  
“Try not to feel too bad, shem. It’s just history, right?”  
That snaps Cassandra out of her horror and she snorts at him as he once again follows after him.  
“You’re sense of humor is incredibly inappropriate and morbid. You don’t seem to understand the entirety of that event.”  
Fane scoffs quietly which earns him another pointed glare from the short haired woman.  
“Don’t understand? I don’t need to understand your political garbage to know hundreds of my people died in that war. And for what? For simply denying your Maker. So, excuse me if my “humor” is too realistic for you.”  
Fane stops as he reaches the door and looks back at Cassandra who is staring at him with an unreadable expression as she steps forward, telling the guard at the door to open it for them. As he does, Cassandra steps out first without another word to him and he soon follows after, shielding his eyes from the sudden change in light, he lets his eyes adjust to it. He feels the frigid mountain air bite at his nose and the tips of ears before his gaze travels skyward and what he sees has his eyes widening. An enormous green portal of what appears to be raw magic pours into the world below it. He sees streaming trails of debris flying from the opening and connecting with various surfaces, be it the mountain around them or disappearing beyond where he can see. The whole sky is light up in shades of grey, blue, and the sickening green. The same shade of green as the mark on his hand.. Cassandra is gazing up at the opening as well as if she can will it gone with her stare alone.  
“We call it the Breach. It is a massive rift in the Fade that grows with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift, just the largest. It was caused by the explosion that destroyed the Conclave..”  
Fane can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the sight before him. That thing is what he’s accused of creating?! A massive hole in the sky that’s pouring magic and demons from the Fade into the mortal world?!  
“An explosion can do that? What kind of magic..?!”  
Fane’s question dies on his lips as both he and Cassandra hear a thunderous boom radiate through the valley and the Breach seems to expand in size as sparks of thunder shaped magic arch from the main source. Simultaneously, the mark on his hand flares to life along with the Breach and pain wracks him to his core. Fane falls to his knees, gripping his hand in futile attempt to staunch the pain. Cassandra hurries over to him as he grits his teeth to prevent a pained scream from forcing its way out. He’ll die before these shems hear him scream!  
“Every time the Breach expands, the mark does too, and it is slowly killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time!”  
Fane breathes deeply through his nose and pries his eyes open to shoot Cassandra a skeptical glare.  
“The key? Key for doing what?!”  
The mark continues to pulsate dully at the Breach calms itself for the moment, allowing him to think clearly for the moment. Cassandra watches him closely before continuing.  
“For closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is yet to be seen. It is our only chance however. And your’s.”  
At the end of her statement, Fane is overcome with the urge to throttle this blighted shem. She’s giving him an ultimatum. A ride or you die type of deal. The very audacity of it makes him sick! He’ll be damned if he’ll be at the mercy of these humans! The minute they’re finished with him or if he doesn’t do what they want, he’ll be quartered whether or not he’s actually guilty! Fane lets out a wheezy scoff and fixes Cassandra with an icy green glare.  
“You still think I did this? To myself!? I’m not a mage, human! I know nothing of magic let alone being able to tear a hole into the Fade!”  
Cassandra sighs defeatedly and points her index finger in his face.  
“Not intentionally! But you are our only suspect and we don’t have time to investigate! If we survive this, we can get to the bottom of this! For now, we must simply make this survivable!”  
Survival. That’s a concept Fane understands well. He can make this survivable for himself, but these humans? They can drop dead. However, the temperamental human woman crouched in front of him doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting him go. Fane lets his head fall, his chin resting on his chest.  
“So..I don’t really have a choice, do I?”  
That seems to spur Cassandra to level him with a hard glare.  
“None of us has a choice.”  
Fane laughs. He actually laughs at that. However, it is a rueful laugh and he snaps his head up at the now bewildered woman, the laugh subsiding as quickly as it came.  
“You have a choice. Your kind always does. You just like making choices for other people you deem as lesser. It makes you feel better about yourselves. Am I wrong?”  
Cassandra clutches her sword tightly and grabs him by the front of his armor, hoisting him up violently and glaring at him for several moments before pushing him forward, this time the shove actually throwing him off balance. Fane blinks and manages a tiny smirk at that.  
“This is interesting.. That really set her off. Good. Let her hate me just as much as I hate her.”  
Fane spares the angered woman one last glance before she starts to forcibly guide him through the village. He looks up at the Breach one last time and feels an odd stirring in his chest, shaking it off a moment later. Fane sighs quietly and stares ahead.  
“So much for staying out of trouble. Ir abelas, sister. I’ll be away for a little longer than planned, but I’ll return to you. I’ll see this woman’s guts strewn across the snow before I let them try to kill me.”  
The violent thought barely registers through his mind as it passes through. A flicker of a shadow flits across his green eyes before disappearing and leaves Fane with a lightheadedness. He carefully shakes the feeling off and hardens his stance and his expression.  
“Time to be a reluctant hero, it seems.”


	6. Suledin - Chapter 5 - The Faithful and The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane and Cassandra make their way into the valley as the Breach continues to expand around them. However, will the two be able to stop bickering long enough to come together? Or will Fane's never ending prejudice towards humans hinder them? For she is faith and he is just a wicked soul lost amidst the wreckage, faith destroyed by silence even as the whisper of power awakens from its slumber..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twist that lore! Twist that lore! I'm sure most people can see where this is headed with Fane, but meh! Also, it's very hard to think of different ways to describe glares and scowling, but that's Fane for you! One day he'll have a pure smile, I swear! Anyway, we are gonna be seeing Fane's reactions to two lovely characters next chapter. You know the ones~! So, stay tuned!

If Fane was ever asked to describe the most treacherous battlefield he has ever had to walk upon, it would be this one. A mob of zealous, angry, and murderous humans. Oh, don’t misunderstand, he’s not afraid. He’s livid. Livid at the fact that he’s being paraded through a pack of hyenas on assumptions. Livid at the fact that he’s being put on display as if he’s being led to the gallows. Fane never thought he could honestly be even more furious than he is by default! This particular battlefield is dangerous to him however because of the fact that his hands are bound and he has no weapon. He wouldn’t be able to hold off an angry mob with just his bare hands. Fane chances a glance down at Cassandra, who to his dismay, is still resolutely pushing him along through the village.  
“I do wish she would get a clue. She has to understand that I have no chance of getting away at this point. Not that I wouldn’t try if I had the chance. Which I suppose is her line of thinking at the moment. Hm, I wouldn’t trust me either.”  
Fane pulled out of his thoughts as the sound of Cassandra’s voice. Oh, she must have been talking for a while. Oh well. Fane turns his snowy head towards the warrior woman’s accented voice.  
“I’m sorry?”  
Fane notices they are no longer within the village.  
“I was wondering why it had gotten so quiet. Well quieter.", his mind finally points out.  
Cassandra comes around to his front, just barely matching his height and looks into his freckled ivory face with her hard brown eyes.  
“I was simply explaining the severity of the situation. Your situation. It is now that we must come together. No matter our feelings or race. At least until the Breach is sealed. That’s what the Divine would have wanted.”  
Fane watches Cassandra with wary emerald eyes as she pulls out a small silver dagger. She deftly slices into the rough rope that binds his hands together. Fane watches as the cords of rope fall apart and form a small heap on the ground. The corner of Fane’s mouth twitches slightly in amusement, looking back up at the woman in front of him.  
“Unbinding me? You’re not all that smart, are you?”  
Cassandra sheaths her small dagger and returns his stare with a hard expression, seemingly unfazed by his veiled threat.  
“You are no threat unarmed as you are. Also..I must show some measure of trust or you will never trust me thus nothing will be rectified.”  
Fane stares at her blankly and raises an eyebrow slightly then lets out a rueful snort.  
“Aren’t you an idealistic one? As if this will change the inevitable outcome. Whether I cooperate with you or not, my sentence is still death. That’s how your shem laws work.”  
Cassandra sighs heavily and turns from him, straightening her posture and setting her shoulders into a stance ready for battle.  
“You judge too quickly. It makes you little more than a hypocrite since you do the same disservice to humans that you accuse us of doing to the elven people. All I can promise is that there will be a trial. Now come. We’ve wasted enough time with this pointless back and forth.”  
As Cassandra begins to along the bridge leading out into the valley, Fane stares after her with dark colored eyes.  
“A hypocrite, hm? Pfft, she’s one to talk.. Whatever. We’ll do her way. For now.”  
Fane lets out an irritated huff and flexes his hands as he moves to catch up with the infuriating warrior.  
“Open the gate! We’re heading into the valley!”  
At Cassandra’s order, the two guards stationed at the giant, two door wooden gate push it open as quickly as they can. Fane manages to barely hide an eye roll at the display.  
“She instills some level of authority, at least.”  
Fane carefully raises his arms above his head, an audible series of cracks and pops ripple through them. He lets out an uncomfortable grunt at the action, feeling his skin protest the movement. He quickly lowers his arms and schools his expression. Cassandra looks over at him, having heard his discomfort, and gives him what he thinks might be an attempt at concern.  
“Are you..all right?”  
Fane walks past her with his head held high, not even sparing her a glance and adjusts the fastenings on his gloves.  
“I’m fine.”  
Cassandra watches him trudge on ahead with confusion, but simply sighs and quickly makes to catch up with him. As they fall into step with each other, Fane raises his mossy eyes upwards to the Breach once again, quietly contemplating it. No words are exchanged as the two warriors continue to make their way to the next bridge, Cassandra taking the lead since one, he doesn’t know where she intends to take him and two, he knows nothing of the layout of this area. Fane remembers the Keeper briefly summarizing the map of Haven and simply telling him to stick to the village and the Temple of Sacred Ashes lest he cause trouble. So, the area surrounding him was completely foreign. Fane’s eyes briefly turn from the magical opening in the sky and take in his immediate surroundings.  
“Snow. Snow and ash. Fitting.”, he thinks sarcastically.  
Fane isn’t exaggerating when he says that’s all he sees. The entire area was covered in a thick blanket of pure white snow. So thick that the path Cassandra was leading him on was almost completely covered in it. Thankfully, the rocky texture beneath his leather boots kept him from slipping when his foot caught on the countless protruding pebbles.  
“To think, I wasn’t going to wear these blasted things, either. Guess the Keeper is good for some things.”, his mind jokes.  
Fane breathes a quiet sigh, his hot breath creating a small cloud from the frigid temperatures of the mountain, and raises his gaze back up to the Breach.  
“This Breach.. It stirs something within me, but I can’t determine what. The longer I stare at it, the more that feeling grows. It’s like something is pulling me towards it. It creates a feeling of..nostalgia. But how can that be? Nothing like this has ever happened before..right? Ugh..my head hurts.” he gently pinches the bridge of his nose as his train of thought crumbles.  
Fane takes a deep breath and slowly opens his eyes and gives the Breach another long stare before both it and mark flare up, actually bringing him to his knees in the snow. Pain and discomfort course through his body, his headache an afterthought for the moment. He bites down on his tongue harshly in an attempt to keep himself quiet, the brutal pressure actually cutting into it and allowing him to taste the familiar tang of his own blood. Cassandra hears him fall with a hard thud and turns on her heel, rushing over to him. Fane watches as the mark slowly recedes as the expansion slows to a stop once more. Cassandra gently takes his arm and helps him up, actually managing to bear some of his weight and reassuringly pats his shoulders when he’s upright once more. Her amber eyes examine him with mild concern, but harden shortly after before she gives him a firm nod. Her voice, however, surprises him, as he gathers his bearings, with how soft it is.  
“The pulses are coming faster now. We need to hurry.”  
Fane stands there stunned for a few moments, blinking several times before shaking his head and fixing his face into a scowl.  
“Yes. It wouldn’t do for you to lose your tool after all. Hmph, let’s go.”  
Fane pushes past the shocked human, obviously surprised at his reaction to her concern. She could hang her concern as far as he was concerned. It was fake. A trap. Just another way to try and get him to let his guard down. He wouldn’t fall prey to it. Never.  
Fane picks up his pace and sets himself into an easy jog, Cassandra right on his heels. He glances back at her from over his shoulder, seeing that she once again is showing no sign of what is going on in her mind. Fane scoffs quietly before turning his gaze forward again, focusing on the path of the bridge in front of them before he here’s the whistling sound of something that is moving fast. Very fast. Before he can look around for the source of the sound, a tremor along the path has him skidding to a stop, Cassandra nearly slamming into the hard plane of his back. The two look at each other before the entirety of the bridge begins to crumble into pieces under them. Cassandra lets out a surprised yell while Fane grimaces as dust and rubble obscure his vision. They both roll down the remnants of the stone bridge, Fane’s left side cracking into the side of an errant boulder, causing him to gasp as the wind is knocked out of him. Both warriors fall harshly to the ice encased river below them. Cassandra holds the back of her head where it smacked soundly with the ice. Fane fights to coax oxygen back into his empty lungs and pushes himself up slowly, spitting out some blood from where he bit into his cheek. He frantically looks over to find his reluctant companion. He surprises himself when he heaves a relieved sigh at the sight of her slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position, the only trace of injury is the faint blood on her temple and the scuffed pieces of armor. Fane checks over himself next and curses angrily when he sees the gash in his left side, the chainmail and cloth completely torn. A searing pain wracks through his side, blood running down from the fresh wound and he slaps a hand over it to staunch the flow.  
“Fenhedis! Of all times..!”  
Cassandra whips her head around at his curse and her expression takes on one of shock. However, before she can assist him, the ground rocks once more with the force of an impact. A head of black and a head of white snap towards the source. Suddenly, from the smoking point of impact, a shadowy undulating figure takes form before them. Cassandra immediately leaps into action, pulling her sword and shield from their resting places.  
“Stay behind me! It’s a demon!”  
Fane watches as the battle ready human charges forward with a roar, the shadowy demon meeting it with one of its own. Fane lets a low growl reverberate from the depths of his chest and forces himself to stand despite the white hot pain in his side.  
“Glory hounding piece of..!”  
His mind doesn’t get a chance to finish its angry cursing as another smoking puddle races towards him and begins to crackle at his feet. Fane sets himself into a defensive position as another of the dark creatures takes shape before him.  
“Shit! I don’t have anything to fight with! Blast it all!”  
Fane frantically whips his head around for anything he could use as a weapon and visibly relaxes when he spots an iron longsword on the ground, invariably from the carts that were stationed on the bridge before it was destroyed. Fighting through the pain of the deep gash on his left side, he makes a run towards the sword and grabs it quickly. He tests the weight, finding it good enough for the situation, and turns towards the demon as it charges towards him with an otherworldly screech. Fane shoots a look over at Cassandra who is locked in her own skirmish. He watches as she hacks away at the shaded creature and can’t help but feel a small amount of wonder at her prowess.  
“She can certainly hold her own.. However, so can I.”  
Fane shakes himself out of his reverie and hardens his expression as he stares down this supposed demon. He’s never had to face a demon before. He’s heard of them from the Keeper and from his sister, but to actually face one..he can’t help but feel excitement. Adrenaline. Bloodlust. Fane raises his sword in front of him and takes the hand covering his wound away from the still bleeding opening. His face twists into a sadistic grin as his eyes become afire with a want for blood. His heart begins to hammer wildly, almost painfully, in his chest and can nearly feel it against his breastplate.  
“Are you just going to stand there? Get to work, brat!”  
Fane feels his body tense up and his head feels heavy.  
“What..? A voice..? No..the wind..?”  
He doesn’t get another moment to try and puzzle together the faint hum of a voice within his mind as the demon lashes out at him. His eyes widen as the demon throws him back against a still standing wall, once again knocking the wind from her. He coughs wetly and glares daggers into the creature as it slowly slinks towards him.  
“Pathetic.”, the windlike whisper comes again.  
Fane lets out an inhuman snarl from bloody lips and lunges at the demon furiously. He slashes frantically at the shade before him, black blood spewing from the created wounds and splattering across his pale face. The demon screeches in rage and grabs him by the face, Fane’s mouth twists into a malicious sneer, his emerald eyes flash dangerously as a momentary shadow of blue glides across them. Cassandra, who has been engaged with the first demon, turns at the piercing screech, her blood running cold.  
“What..? I told you to stay back!”  
Fane’s eyes never leave the demon’s voidless black ones and he pushes against the hand with his face that is still trapped between clawed hands. He whispers low and dangerous to the creature before him, that sadistic grin never leaving his lips.  
“You dare? Let me empty whatever you have for guts onto the ice. Shall we?”  
The voice that reached his pointed ears was foreign to him. The sadistic grin faltered for a moment before it turned into an annoyed scowl.  
“This happened before.. In that void..”  
A sudden piercing pain wracks his head, his mouth falling open with a silent scream. The demon rips at the cloth covering his arm, effectively tearing it and damaging the gauntlet covering it, as Fane shoves his sword into the demon's midsection, viscous, black blood spraying out and all over his front. The creature releases his face as it sinks into the ground with a pitiful growl, leaving Fane standing before the spot where it once was. He takes in large gulps of cold air as he turns his snowy head skyward. He felt sick. His head was pounding like a smith’s hammer was smithing away against the walls of his skull. Fane gripped his sword tightly, rubbing a hand over his face, smearing the creature’s blood even more across it.  
“What the hell..? I feel like I just woke up from one of my nightmares.. Did that demon do something..?”  
The harsh sound of footsteps against ice pulls Fane out of his thoughts. When he lifts his head, he’s met with the point of a sword mere inches from his face. It takes him a moment to focus due to the pounding in his head, but when it finally clears he’s met with a furious eyed Cassandra and the sharp edge of her sword. He makes no attempt to raise his own however, instead narrowing his blood surrounded eyes at her.  
“Drop your weapon. NOW.”  
Fane allows his eyes to look her up and down, noticing that her armor is caked in black, thick blood as well and far less injuries. He glances back up at her calmly, but keeps the sword in his grasp. Oddly, he surprises himself with how calm he’s being. Usually, he’d feel anger at a shemlen pointing a sword at him after he just helped her fight off two demons, but instead he feels..numb? Odd.  
“No.”  
Cassandra snarls and moves a step closer to him. Again, Fane makes no move to retaliate. He simply watches the armored woman.  
“You don’t need to fight!”  
Fane could see something else fueling her. Was it..fear? He tilts his head slightly, his bleached hair falling to one side at the movement. He frowns and his thick brows furrow.  
“A demon attacked me. What else was I supposed to do? Let it gut me? I think there’s enough blood and death in this valley already.”  
That made Cassandra pause, it seems. She backs down slightly, lowering her sword a fraction before completely sheathing it with a defeated sigh.  
“...You’re right. I cannot protect you the entire time. And the help..is appreciated.”  
Fane’s eyebrows raise at that and he steps towards her so that he is only slightly looking down at her.  
“I’m sorry, but I think you just complimented me. Backhanded as it was.”  
Cassandra scoffs and turns from him as soon as the retort left his lips. Fane smirks faintly at the sightly.  
“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s practical, that is all. And I’m trying to keep in mind that you did not attempt to run as soon as I cut your bindings away. How you take it, is up to you.”  
Fane’s smirk widens just a bit more and he gazes down at the woman before him.  
“She’s a fiery one, hm? Interesting. I wouldn’t mind seeing what else can set her off.”  
He catches himself as soon as the thought leaves his mind. What was he going on about? Had he just been..flirting? With a shem?! And had she..flirted back?! No! That’s ridiculous!  
Fane shakes his head in a futile attempt to get rid of the lurid thoughts invading his mind. As if he could even have such thoughts to begin with! Disgusting.  
Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice as Cassandra comes back to him and fixes him with a hard stare, which causes him to visibly jump, which makes a small smirk to grace her features. Fane snorts derisively and crosses his arms.  
“What, shem? Change your mind?”  
Cassandra shakes her head and hands him a small glass vial filled with a watery crimson liquid.  
“Take this. It’s a healing potion. We’re going to need to be ready and you..are a little banged up.”  
Fane blinks as he takes the bottle and gives it a hard stare before looking back up at the giver, catching her staring at his arm. His mouth opens to question what has her so interested before he realizes what has her so enamored. His sleeve. The demon tore it when he stabbed it. Fane quickly pulls some bandages from his small pouch and haphazardly wraps his exposed upper arm with the length of it. His expression hardens and all rare playfulness is gone from his demeanor. He ties off the gauze once he’s satisfied and chugs the health potion, tossing the bottle to the ground, hearing the shattering of glass against the ice.  
“Let’s go.”  
Cassandra blinks at the elf and furrows thin dark eyebrows.  
“Those scars..They’re old, shouldn’t you wrap your side instead?”  
Fane jerks his head towards her, his emerald eyes flashing as the light from both the sun and Breach reflect off the golden specks.  
“Let’s. Go.”  
Fane straightens his stance and marches ahead of her towards the mouth of the valley. Cassandra grunts in annoyance and follows after him, running to stand in front of him.  
“Let me wrap it.”  
Fane snarls right in her face and pushes past her.  
“Shove off, shem.”  
Cassandra glares in disapproval and lets out a defeated sigh before falling in step behind him. Fane keeps his eyes on the ice ahead of them, not looking anywhere else, his gait harsh and quick. The wound in his side dulls to a mild ache as the potion begins to kick in. He needed to get away from this. The last thing he needs are these shems questioning him even more about things that are not their business. His eyes flicker up to the Breach and he grimaces, the blood from the demon beginning to dry on his skin.  
“This stupid mark on my hand better close this damned thing, or I’ll raze this entire valley.”  
Fane’s eyes flickered back to the path before him and he notices that the valley is eerily quiet, given the occasional crack of rock being met with falling debris from the Breach.  
“Where are all your soldiers? The Divine had an army, didn’t she?”  
Cassandra stares past him, her mouth set into a hard line.  
“They are all in the valley or fighting elsewhere. We are on our own. For now.”  
Fane scoffs quietly and turns his head back to look in front of him, his face glaring at nothing in particular.  
“Every person is on their own. That’s survival. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them ran at the first sign of trouble.”  
Cassandra spares him a glance before turning her chocolate eyes back to the path, her expression still a hard mask.  
“Perhaps. It is more likely they died defending what they believed in. They died defending their faith. They defended the idea of peace.”  
Fane goes silent at that and looks down at his marked hand, his eyebrow twitching minutely in annoyance.  
“Faith? Peace? Hmph. Faith is nothing but a tool to control the weak. Peace is just a pretty word for complacency. There is neither in this world, woman. There never will be. I know. I’ve never had either one.”  
And with that thought, nothing more was said as the two descended into the infernal valley littered with the dead. Those who died for divinity. For peace. For faith. For foolishness.


	7. Suledin - Chapter 6 - Familiar Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the pressure to the seal the Breach grows, Fane and Cassandra meet up with two more unlikely companions. However, not everything goes smoothly and old wounds begin to fester..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my head just vomited this out for me! This is how I like to think the scene of Fane meeting Varric and Solas went. Do you honestly think Fane would just stand there and not feel some kind of bitter resentment for being used as a literal test subject? Especially given my backstory for him. I always envision specific scenes going slightly different for each of my characters because due to Inquisition's small choices on the dialogue wheel, it doesn't give me the immersion I'm looking for. And how do I fix that? With fanfiction of course! Enjoy!

He hates demons. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Fane. Hates. Demons. He’s never faced enemies that refused to fall in a timely fashion. Well, what he feels is a timely fashion anyways. And that fashion is fast. Very fast. Also, they leave quite the mess when they die. He was covered in black, putrid smelling blood, from his snow white hair to his leather boots. His ironbark armor that he had put together before coming here was scuffed and dented in various places. His head was pounding consistently now as those strange windy whispers kept sounding in his ears every time he engaged in combat. His entire body was on fire from the searing mark on his hand and his own sensitive scars. In short, he was a wreck. 

Fane and Cassandra both sheath their weapons as another four demons fall before them, none too easily fact. He puts his hands on his hips and lets his head fall as he tries to get his breath back which was difficult to do because of the frigid temperature of the mountain air. These demons are seriously testing his endurance and it frustrates him how weak he felt compared to the calm woman next to him, her breath is also labored, but in far better shape than he is. Cassandra places a concerned hand on his rapidly rising shoulder.

“I know it’s difficult, but we have to keep pushing forward. We’re getting close to the rest of the fighting.”

Fane glares up at her, sweat rolling down his forehead, his snowy hair slightly damp. He brushes her hand off his shoulder and stands up straight.

“I’m not going to say it again; stop touching me. I don’t need your ‘concern’. And anyways, didn’t you say everyone else was farther away? Who’s fighting around here?”

Cassandra recoils a gloved hand slowly and turns to trudge up the set of snow covered steps that lead up higher into the valley.

“You’ll see. We have to help them. Hurry!”

At that, Cassandra bolts up the stairs with sure footsteps. Fane sighs heavily and follows after her up the snowy path, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen and cold air. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Cassandra seems to be making these people out to be more..special. He furrows his brows as he races up the stairs, nearly on Cassandra’s heels. As they reach the top, they are greeted with even more fire and smoke among the snow. Fane coughs from the thick smoke as it invades his lungs and his eyes water from the sting of ash, but he can make out the cries of a battle in progress. 

“There! Quickly!”

Cassandra grabs his arm to guide him towards a drop off, pushing him down none too gently. Fane manages to cushion his fall with a roll and whips around to glare furiously at the brash human.

“Seriously?! Are you trying to kill me, shem?!”

Cassandra drops down next to him with a loud thud, wincing slightly at the impact due to the weight of her armor. She snorts at his exclamation.

“Didn’t you tell me not to worry about you?”

She unsheathes her sword and shield as she charges into the fray of demons and humans. Fane unsheathes his own sword with a growl, the metal singing with a sharp zing as he pulls it from its resting place with a bit too much force. He mutters darkly under his breath as he charges after her.

“So, pushing me off a wall is the better idea? Pah, human..”

The minute the two of them enter the battle, Fane’s eyes widen at the sight of an opening in the air much like the Breach above them except much smaller. His eyes narrow as his sword sinks into the undulating body of a shade.

“So..that’s what she was talking about earlier. This just gets worse and worse by the minute..”

His thought derails as the whistle of an arrow flies past his head and into an approaching shade that he didn’t see. Fane whips his head back to the source of the arrow and blinks surprised green eyes at what he sees. 

‘Is that..a dwarf? What’s a dwarf doing here?’, he ponders offhandedly.

The dwarf in question throws him a friendly smile and a wave.

“Keep your mind on the battle, kid! Unless you wanna end up as demon food?”

Fane furrows his brow before whipping around, his sword turning in his wrist to sink right into the head of the shade that was advancing on him. Blood splatters across his freckled face as he pulls it out sharply. Fane nearly empties his stomach out onto the cobblestone from the sulfuric smell of the demon’s blood and quickly wipes the majority of it from his face with a growl. The dwarf lets out a whistle at the display before firing a barrage of arrows from his crossbow into the next advancing demon. 

As the battle continues, Fane can feel a familiar pressure behind his eyes and grimaces.

‘Not again..shit!’

Fane grips his head with his free hand at the sudden pierce of debilitating pain coursing through it. The pain quickly spreads down his body, but fades as it works its way down. What was this? Why did this keep happening?! He sluggishly lifts his head and gasps as he’s met with the sight of a demon pulling back to slice into him with a foreboding screech. Fane raises his sword, hoping to bear the brunt of the blow. The blow never comes however and Fane blinks in surprise when he sees Cassandra before him, having taken the force of the swing with her shield and snarls as she pushes the demon back.

“Focus, elf!”

Fane growls and slams his sword into the midsection of the demon viciously, holding his breath as that acrid smell reaches his nostrils again. He truly despises these blasted things! The demon sinks into the ground like water rolling down a ditch. Fane glares at the spot with disdain and mild disgust. 

‘Fucking filthy..’

Cassandra straightens and turns to face him.

“Get out of your head and focus!”

Fane glares back in her direction and sets his stance once more, his expression hardening as he tries to ignore the pounding pain in his head and his now active mark, likely spurred by the rift before them. 

Fane takes a deep breath and suddenly feels himself being pulled from his position next to Cassandra, unable to hide a small wince. 

“Quickly! Before more of them surround us!”

Fane’s messy haired head snaps to the source of his discomfort and frowns as he sees a tall male elf holding his wrist roughly. Fane pulls against the other elf’s grip on his wrist and is surprised when he can’t pull himself free. Suddenly, the bald elf raises his arm towards the glowing rift in front of them and the pain that surges through Fane’s arm has him seeing stars. The pain Fane feels is nothing like he’s felt in over five years! It’s searing, relentless, excruciating, and above all, pure magic. The mark on his hand pulls and pushes, the rift before them slowing stitching itself closed. The process seems to go on for forever in Fane’s mind, his breathing becomes harsh and fast. He finds himself reciting his old mantra for the first time in a long time.

“Suledin..Suledin..Suledin..”

He feels more unbearable pressure as his vision starts to fade, his head throbbing in time with his pounding heart and he swears he can hear wind and whispers. Whispers of weakness. Of disdain. Of fury. Of..betrayal? He can’t make sense of any of these feelings. He only knows they are familiar and that terrifies him. 

His mantra continues, furiously picking up in pace. He doesn’t notice when the stormy eyed elf glances at him and frowns, evidently hearing his pitiful chanting.

“Suledin, suledin, suledin...I must..I must..”

A resounding crack shakes the air and the rift disperses, fading away with tendrils of residual magic looping in the air as it is set free. The stranger elf lets go of Fane’s wrist carefully. Fane doesn’t even try to hold himself back anymore, he runs to a ruined wall and brutally vomits onto the stone. He wetly coughs and heaves as more and more waste exits his body violently. The elf, the dwarf, and Cassandra watch in a mixture of worry and slight horror. The elf in particular seems shaken and makes the first move towards the younger elf, carefully setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe.. It will pass..”

Fane feels himself gasping for breath and squeezes his eyes shut as wave after wave of nausea hits him. His mind floods with repressed memories of his father’s experiments, the brutal sessions and “gentle” sessions. His heart hammers wildly in his chest, cutting his sense of hearing down by half. Oddly, he no longer hears the silent whispers from previously and the pain in his head has calmed to a dull ache, but he’s shaking violently. Fane slowly raises his head from his chest, his face paler than it already is and sees the concerned steel eyes of the older elf who had grabbed his wrist. The one that caused this pain in him! This resurfacing of memories he’s worked for years to push down! The tall elf seems to sense his shift of emotion and quickly takes a step back as Fane rounds around with his fist, aiming for the fellow elf’s jaw.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Fane makes to grab at the elf, who is watching him with a calculating stare. Cassandra rushes forward and grabs his arms firmly, holding him back.

“Stop! What has gotten into you!?”

Fane’s emerald eyes never leave the stormy ones of the elder elf. He furiously fights against Cassandra’s unshakeable hold on him, snarling furiously.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO CAUSE THAT!?”

The elf calmly raises a hand at Cassandra, but doesn’t look away from the furious elf trying to murder him.

“It is fine, Seeker. I understand his anger. I think you can let him go.”

Cassandra looks at the elf with an incredulous look.

“Are you insane, Solas?!”

Fane continues to struggle against Cassandra, finally managing to free an arm and then the other, his whole body on fire with pain. He goes to reach for the calm elf, but he doesn’t get far before his knees buckle, dropping to the ground with a solid thud. Fane chokes on his breath and grips the stone beneath him, making his gloves creak.

“What did you do..What did you do..?”

Cassandra looks down at him in surprise and then looks back at the elf, Solas. Solas kneels before him, using his staff to steady himself.

“I did nothing. That was all you. I simply tested a running theory about the nature of the Breach. It is tied to your mark, therefore, it should have the ability to close the rifts spawned from it. And it seems my theory was correct. However, the effect it had on you..was not my doing.”

Fane snaps his head up at the man before him, looking like a lost child before looking down at his hand and grimacing back into a hard expression.

“So..I was an experiment? Of course I was.. Of course..”

Fane continues to glare at his hand, his mind seething with a dull rage over the revelation. The crouching elf before him obviously trying to find the right words to his comment. A clearing of a throat has the two looking up.

“Well..at least the good thing about all this is there’s no more demons trying to kill us! I thought we’d end up demon chow for sure!”

It was the dwarf that had nearly shot his head off with one of his arrows. Fane stared him blankly, feeling extremely drained, but looked the dwarf up and down. He was stocky, much like every dwarf, but unlike most dwarves he’s seen this one has no beard to speak of. He wears his strawberry blonde hair in a half ponytail and seemingly his eyes match the shade of his hair. He’s giving Fane a reassuring and friendly smile as he approaches them, dusting off his crimson tunic beneath a light leather trench coat. He also notices the trimmings of gold and silver that decorates his clothing, as well as the golden jewelry that pierces the dwarf’s ears. Apparently this dwarf was well off, but he didn’t seem like the haughty noble type. If anything, to Fane, he seemed..normal. The thought makes him chuckle quietly before coughing once more, his throat raw from his screaming and vomiting. Fane focuses his eyes dully on the dwarf and sighs.

“You’re the one that almost took my head off..”

At that, the dwarf scoffs indignantly and holds his crossbow close.

“Bianca would never miss her mark! She’s an expert marksman! But, I AM the one that pointed her your way before a demon tore your face off. The name’s Varric Tethras. Good to see another prisoner like me! Except I’m not accused of leveling a mountaintop which killed thousands of people. Or actively trying to murder a guy right in front of me. But still nice to not be the only one brought here against their will.”

Varric threw a glance up at Cassandra, who had been standing there with her arms crossed. She snorts disgustingly at the glib dwarf’s comment.

“Why are you here, Varric? I brought you here to speak with the Divine and she is gone. You no longer have any reason to be here.”

Varric shrugs nonchalantly and smirks.

“Why, Seeker, wasn’t it you who said I couldn’t leave until you said so? I’m just following your orders! I can’t believe you forgot!”

Cassandra scoffs once more and shoots daggers into the dwarf who is still smirking. Fane sighs heavily and hangs his head once more. A cool feeling washes of him and it wasn’t the frigid air that was the source. It was magic. Healing magic. Fane lifts his head to the elder elf before him once more and catches the glow of his hand before it fades away completely. The elf manages a small smile and stretches a hand out to him as he stands slowly.

“Apologies, but you looked as if you needed it. My name is Solas.”

Fane stares at the slender hand being offered to him before looking up at the Solas himself. He was tall, as tall as Fane himself is. He wore a verdant green overcoat over a cotton tunic, a jawbone necklace hanging around his neck. His legs were wrapped in equally green leather wrappings with just his feet exposed and he had a simple wooden staff in his slender hand, meaning that the elf was a mage. Fane notices that Solas also had very sharp, elven features. His jawline was so defined that it could probably cut glass and his pointed ears were more triangular than those of Fane’s clan, they were more like his own. Stormy, steel blue eyes gaze down at him gently as he patiently waits for the younger elf to take his hand. Fane scowls at the proffered hand and brushes it away, pushing himself up on his own.

“I can manage without, for future reference.”

Solas settles his hand with his other one on his staff and watches him calmly.

“Noted, da’len.”

Fane growls weakly under his breath and rubs his face with a hand. The last thing he needed was to be treated like a child after his little episode.

“Don’t call me that.”

Solas raises an eyebrow as Fane turns from him, walking back to where Cassandra and Varric are still bickering.

“Anymore excruciating and violent magical tests you want to put me through? Or is it out of your system now?”

Cassandra and Varric turn to the irritated elf. Cassandra frowns and faces him with her arms still crossed.

“I..did not think it would have such an adverse effect on you. It was not my intention to..”

Fane cut her off with a disgusted scoff and glares angrily at the stunned Seeker.

“Of course it wasn’t. How could you know that someone who wasn’t a mage would become violently ill from raw magic being forced out of and through their body? Simple mistake. No hard feelings. Tsk.”

Cassandra stood in stunned silence at his remark. Fane knows it wasn’t just the sealing of the rift that caused his violent reaction, but it certainly did not help things. That process brought dark memories from his years of magical torture to the forefront. Memories that he pushed down into the furthest reaches of his mind to bury them. Between the familiar pain and the waves of nausea, it flashed these memories before his eyes, making him relive each agonizing moment as if it was all happening once more. Fane sways slightly at the thought and took a deep breath, hearing stocky footsteps coming to stand in front of him.

“You okay there, slick?”

Fane grunts lowly in affirmation and looks up to see all three of them watching him with pointed interest. The sight makes him roll his eyes.

“I’m fine. Where to next?”

Cassandra uncrosses her arms and nods firmly.

“The forward camp. It is our only path to the remains of the temple.”

Fane nods and motions for the Seeker to lead on, too tired to throw barbed insults at this point. Varric spares him one last look of concern before trudging reluctantly after the human warrior. Leaving just he and Solas standing amidst the rubble and smoldering fires. Solas begins speaking to him in a quiet voice.

“Your reaction..was not solely from the foreign nature of magic, was it? It seemed..darker than that. As if you saw something. A demon? A place? A..memory?”

Fane freezes immediately and stiffly turns his head towards the scholarly elf. Did he..? No..he couldn’t have.. Unless when he was holding his wrist he saw.. Fane’s expression turns dark with rage and scorn.

“I saw nothing.”

Solas seems unconvinced at his answer and stares at him firmly.

“The process seemed..familiar to you. Your body reacted as if from memory.”

Fane’s ire began to grow at the questioning. This elf..! How dare he try to sift through his mind!

“I said, I saw nothing.”

Solas narrowed his eyes slightly and opened his mouth once more before Fane snaps at him viciously.

“I. SAW. NOTHING. And neither did you.. So, enough.. Enough..”

Solas’s mouth clamps shut, but continues to stare. It’s almost as if he’s..assessing him. Like he’s a puzzle. A rumble of a growl reverbates in Fane’s chest and he storms along the path to get away. His head felt heavy and clouded, as if he’s in a dream. Fane hears the faint padding of footsteps behind him issuing that the nosy elf had begun following after them. Fane could feel rage bubbling underneath his skin at the sound. He hates this elf with every fiber of his being. He tore down a portion of Fane’s well built wall with a simple observation. His eyes had seen right through his own without as much as a glance! He..he SAW. He saw the pain. He saw the agony. He saw the pitiful struggle. He saw it all..and there is nothing Fane can do to wipe it clean. He only knows he has to finish this. He needs to get away. He needs to go home.


	8. Suledin - Chapter 7 - Fakes Faces and Guarded Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morals come to a head as the tension rises between members of Fane's small party. Truths are realized and not all faces are as pretty as they seem. Fane's true trials begin and he's left to wonder; "Will it ever be enough?".

The dream of potentially going home was becoming less and less likely Fane realized. He had an inkling there would be more of those rifts littered all throughout the valley, but he hadn’t counted on each one repeatedly stirring more and more buried memories each time he sealed one. It was becoming almost impossible to endure. However, endure he must. Always. Until the day he falls. 

The party of four made it to the forward camp, meeting up with who Fane could now name as Leliana and a rather infuriating priest who literally spits in Fane’s face, throwing accusations and threats at him as if it were candy. Fane was surprised when the Seeker practically stands up for him in that moment and makes it clear that the true threat around them at that moment was the hole above them spewing demons and rock into the mountain and surrounding areas. Fane stands next to Varric with his arms crossed, trying to ward off the feelings of nausea still coursing through his body as the two women and elderly priest argue unsuccessfully on a course of action.

“This is pointless.”

Fane grips his arms in irritation, his temper becoming something he can’t even bear at this point. Varric shoots a pained smirk up at him.

“You’re telling me. But can you blame them? I don’t think even the Divine, if she were alive, would know what to do.”

Fane nods slightly, accepting that line of logic. The dwarf did have a point after all. What does one do when there’s demons everywhere and the laws of nature don’t apply to a realm shaped by dream and memory? 

“By the way..I was wondering how you, a Dalish elf, even ended up here. A Chantry peace conference generally isn’t an elven venue, right?”

Fane glances down at the stocky dwarf with mild annoyance. Did everyone want to know everything about him?

“Generally no. It’s not.”

Varric waits for further elaboration, but when he gets none he shrugs in defeat.

“Well, you’ve certainly got a chip on your shoulder. A large one.”

Fane turns his gold and green eyes back to the group of bickering humans and shrugs slightly.

“So I’ve been told. Maybe I just don’t want to share things with people I barely know or trust. Just a thought.”

The blonde dwarf shakes his head and pulls out his crossbow, checking it over almost lovingly. Fane rolls his shoulders carefully, feeling sore and stiff from the constant abuse he’s had to endure for the last few hours. He cracks his neck in an effort to loosen some of the tension in his body before he feels someone staring at him. It doesn’t take Fane long to figure out who it is since it seems to be an ongoing occurrence since they met. Without taking his eyes off the group of humans, Fane’s voice comes out annoyed and gruff from tiredness.

“Do you need something, Solas? I don’t appreciate being stared at.”

Fane hears Solas let out a quiet chuckle and step forward so they are standing side by side.

“Apologies. I simply find you..interesting. I’ve crossed paths with the Dalish many times, but you have a different..air to you.”

Fane snorts halfheartedly at that and shrugs.

“A different air? That’s new. And I assume you’ve met many of the Dalish to make such a bold statement?”

Solas tilts his head to the side a bit and shifts his grip on his staff.

“I have. And you do not seem to feel much kinship with your people unlike many of the clans I’ve met.”

Fane sighs, the dull pressure of a familiar headache beginning to form in the back of his head.

“No. I don’t. They disgust me. And that’s all I’m saying on the matter, hahren.”

The last title comes out in a disdainful hiss and Fane moves away from the bald headed mage, Solas left staring after him in quiet contemplation, his blue grey eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. As Fane walks away from the elf, he moves close enough to make out a bit of the circular arguments that the three humans are engaged in. And it’s no surprise to him when he sees that they are still getting nowhere. 

“These shems.. The whole world is burning down around them and they still find time to argue and grab at the reins. Pathetic.”, he thinks ruefully.

Fane clears his raw throat loudly, and crosses his arms with a scowl. The three humans turn to address him. The priest however looks about ready to throw him off the bridge and the thought makes Fane mouth quirk into a small smirk. 

“Ahem. So, are we moving out or are we just going to let everything crumble into dust? Not that I really care at this point, but I have to seem like I’m making some attempt.”

The crimson and white robed priest with the Andrastian symbol emblazoned on the front of his robes gives him a twisted sneer.

“Do you see, Seeker? He is unconcerned with the situation! That should be enough proof, aside from his inconceivable survival, that he is responsible for the explosion!”

Cassandra gives Fane a warning glare before turning back to the accusatory priest, slamming her hands on the table.

“We will investigate all of this once the immediate danger has been dealt with, Chancellor. Whether he is guilty or not, he is the only one that can potentially seal the Breach. We cannot simply leave this!”

The priest leans forward to match Cassandra’s own hardened stance, refusing to back down.

“Would you really risk more lives on a possibility, Seeker?! The Divine is dead! Her army nearly obliterated! Even if you wanted to get to the temple, you’d be dead before you made it! Abandon this now.. We cannot act as we are!”

Fane heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why does he even bother? He goes to speak but before he can the lilting voice of the red headed Orlesian, the one who accompanied Cassandra when he first woke up, steps up to the side of the table and looks to Cassandra.

“What if you went through the mountains? The old mining passages should be fairly desolate of demons, save for potential stragglers.”

Fane looks up to the mountain, seeing the distant ladders and walkways of the said mining passage. Cassandra looks at Leliana incredulously.

“Leliana, we lost a whole scouting group in those passages! Something dangerous prowls the complex and we cannot risk it.”

Leliana’s cold, blue eyes fix themselves on Cassandra’s own hard, brown ones.

“It is either that or you charge, Cassandra. People will die either way. We simply must ensure it is not the prisoner.”

Fane feels dread rise up within him and grips his arms tightly. Leave it to these people to simply want to throw thousands of lives on the pyre just on the hope HE can save them. He may feel unspeakable anger for these humans, but would he be the source of their deaths? No. Would he let them act as shields and throw themselves on their swords while he remained untouched. No. He is a warrior. He is an elf. He is nobody. Unknown magic be damned! Fane grits his teeth and uncrosses his arms, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white under his gloves, his mark flaring to life as the Breach once more expands. 

“Make. A. Decision.”

All three humans blink at the sound of his fury filled voice, their expressions twisting into unreadable emotions as they land on his flaring mark.

“Do you think I’m some defenseless maiden whose chastity is at stake? Do you think I’ve never killed before? Do you think I’m some invalid who doesn’t know a sword from a branch?! Do I look as if I need PROTECTION!? I may not be versed in fighting demons or a magical rip in the Veil, but NEITHER are any of you! You cannot claim what is best for all of those soldiers when you don’t even know what’s best for any of YOU! You cannot claim what is best for ME! A choice is neither good nor evil, it is simply a choice. So choose! People will die no matter what, but I will NOT let it be because of me!”

Everyone along the bridge is silent, the only sounds coming from the spewing hole above the remains of the temple and the distant cries of soldiers and demons. Fane can hear Varric shift uncomfortably behind him and he feels Solas staring holes into his back once more. Fane’s breath is coming out in quick huffs, the hot air turning into large puffs of vapor from the chill. He could feel the blood rushing from his head back down to the rest of his body as his anger slowly abates and he loops his thumb into the buckle of his sword, his go to reaction for when he’s anxious or wary. Cassandra stands up straight and clears her throat, turning to Leliana who is staring resolutely at Fane.

“We will charge. Leliana, gather what soldiers are left from the valley. Hurry.”

Leliana nods her cowled head and rushes off into the direction the party had originally come from. Cassandra watches as Leliana leaves and then turns back to him with a hard expression, her mouth set into a firm line.

“Let’s go. We can handle the main slope without the soldiers for now. Will you lead us up?”

Fane raises a thick eyebrow and drags a hand down his face, feeling the beveled skin where his vallaslin marks him. At this point, he feels even farther from his people despite bearing the marks. He doesn’t even know what to think at this point. One minute, these people wanted him dead then the next, they wanted to keep him alive! And they were willing to sacrifice people for it! Isn’t there enough death in this world?!

“I’m not going to lead the cattle to slaughter. That’s on you.”

Fane hears a faint ‘ooh’ from behind him, realizing it was from the eccentric dwarf, but chooses to ignore it, more annoyed by the constant feeling of eyes boring holes into his back. Cassandra sighs and turns her back to him.

“Very well. Come.”

Cassandra starts her march past the tents lined along the bridge with Fane hanging back, feeling oddly nauseous all of a sudden. Varric comes up behind him and slaps him on the back before walking past, smirking.

“Way to go, kid.”

Fane stumbles a bit from the clap on his back and glares at the back of the dwarf’s head as he plods on ahead. Fane mutters darkly to himself and runs a hand through his snowy, thick hair. He can’t take too much more of this. In only a few short hours, his entire world has turned on its head and is being consumed by fire. Just like the mountain. Just like the temple. Just like his mind. Just like everything he tries to protect. Memories that were buried and locked away are rising from those flames, etching themselves into the ashes for all to see. He’s tired. So very tired.

“Oh, Mhairi.. I wish you were here with me.. I’m powerless on my own..”, he whispers sadly.

The presence of a hand on his shoulder has him snapping out of his melancholy and whipping his head around to see Solas, who is watching him carefully.

“Believe in yourself a bit more, da’len. You moved them to action, that’s a feat all on its own.”

Fane blinks slowly a few times before growling, shrugging the mage’s hand from his shoulder.

“I don’t need your petty words. They’re empty. So focus on yourself.”

Solas recoils his hand slowly, but smiles softly at him causing Fane a level of confusion at it.

“Your concern is touching..in its own way. Come.”

Fane watches as the elven mage glides past him to follow after Cassandra and Varric, that small smile still on his lips. Fane gripped the scabbard of his sword angrily before releasing it in defeat. He..saw through him again. He sees past the bravado. The angry, defensive words. He sees past it all. 

“I hate him.. I hate him..”

Fane squeezes his green eyes shut before taking a deep breath. 

“I hate..myself.”

As the truth comes full circle for him, he looks back up into the sickly green, grey sky and bites into his plush bottom lip. 

“Hopefully..it kills me. Ir abelas, sister.. I don’t know how much more I can endure and this..is just the beginning.. Creators, give me strength. Hah, who am I kidding? You don’t care.. You have NEVER cared.. Guess I’m just your little plaything. Your court jester..”

Fane lets his head fall to his chest demurely before lifting it back up, the wind of a whisper caressing his pointed ear for just a moment before vanishing and slowly he follows after the other three who seemed less eager to meet death than him, but still walking into it.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If he could choose the moment in which he dies, it would be right now. Right. Now. Fane thought the rifts were bad, but the Breach..it takes the cake for him. The sickening green color is almost so bright with raw magic that his eyes strain to focus on it. It was like the sun. He wants to look away, but it is like it is calling to him. Urging him to look past. To look in. Fane forces his gaze to look back to the scene around him. The party of four stands among the ruined walls and incinerated bodies of men and women that were no longer recognizable as either mage or templar or a Chantry elite. Fane makes a small amused sound in the back of his throat. 

“They got their wish, I suppose. They’re all equal now. Just ash and burning flesh.”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and he can feel the horrified stares of Cassandra or Varric on either side of him. Varric coughs uncomfortably and grumbles a bit. Cassandra stands in front of him and glares at him with heat equal to the fires around them.

“You dishonor their memory with those words. What possesses you to say such things?!”

Fane frowns a bit, his glare much more tired than when this all started.

“We are all equal in death. The dead don’t give a damn whether you dishonor them or not. They’re dead. It’s pragmatism. Not blasphemy. And it’s the truth. And the truth..is hard to swallow.”

Fane pushes past her with a shove of his shoulder, but the Seeker grabs the back plate of his armor roughly and turns him back to face her.

“They died unjustly! They did not come to the Conclave seeking death! They came seeking PEACE. Do not spit on their bones while they smoulder in the rocks and their spirits still linger! Do not speak of truth to me! I know it just as much as you!”

Fane stares at her blankly, all prior fury that he wielded during the entire way here nowhere to be found.

“And how does it feel to know your Chantry failed? That your ‘Maker’ still ignores you? Does it taste bitter? I bet it does.”

Cassandra stares at him with a deep hatred, pushing him away from her with a growl. Fane continues to watch her as he staggers back a few feet. He’s not sure where these words are coming from. He feels them materialize within his mind without control. They don’t sound like his words, but words..that he feels are coming from somewhere deeper. The two continue to glare daggers into each, the tension electric between them. A gruff clearing of a throat seems to break the spell. Varric’s voice.

“Uh..if the pissing match is over, can we move on? I don’t think that big hole is gonna close itself.”

Cassandra snorts at his comment and shoves past Fane vehemently, throwing his balance off slightly. Varric manages to throw him a slight smile, obviously forcing it a bit, before following after the stormy Seeker. The only one that was silent through the whole thing was Solas, who Fane was once again left alone with. And of course, the elf was staring at him with pointed interest.

“What? Something else you wanna point out? I’m insufferable? Blasphemer? A beast? Go on. I’ve already heard it all from my own people! This is just a normal day for me! But you know all this, right? After you, uninvitingly, invaded my memories! The Fade may twist memories, but what you saw was all real! ALL REAL!”

Solas watches him calmly as Fane pants from his anger, his fists clenching and unclenching, his tense shoulders visibly shaking. His next words come out broken, using all his will to not cry.

“All..true.. And you saw..”

Fane runs towards the temple before Solas can reply, leaving him behind amidst the burnt bodies. His long legs take him down the crumbling path to Cassandra and Varric, seemingly waiting for him and Solas. Cassandra refuses to look at him, but Varric offers him a wave.

“About time! Was worried you ran off! Where’s Chuckles?”

Fane opens his mouth to answer before Solas appears next to him. How did he catch up so fast to them?

“I do wish you’d stop calling me that, Varric. I’m right here at any rate. I simply saw something of interest that I may wish to look into at a later time.”

Fane raises an eyebrow slightly at the nickname, but also at Solas’s response. He..lied? Why did he lie? 

“No can do, Chuckles! I make it a point to give everyone I know nicknames. It helps me keep them straight!”

Solas sighs quietly and shakes his head at the dwarf before seeming to think. He motions a slender hand towards Fane and manages a tiny smile.

“If that is the case, what about our friend here? I’m sure you have a nickname for him by now?”

Fane blinks and looks between the two with a panicked expression. Varric smirks mischievously and puts his hand on his chin as if thinking.

“Hm, maybe it would make him feel more welcome. I would call you Broody, but I already have a friend with that nickname and I don’t think the world can handle two of you! Sooo..how about Tempest? He’s like a raging storm waiting to strike!”

Varric looks triumphantly at Fane as if saying, “What do you think? Pretty good, huh?”. Fane is speechless and looks to Solas, trying to hide his panic, but nearly failing. How does he respond to that? He’s not used to someone including him in things.. Solas simply smiles and shrugs before going to stand with Cassandra, who is waiting impatiently for them to finish.

“If you boys are quite finished? I suggest we keep the banter to minimum since there are more pressing issues.”

At that, Cassandra points up to the Breach, as it eerily drones above them. Solas nods and clears his throat.

“Apologies, Seeker.”

Varric rolls his eyes and waves a hand for Fane to follow.

“Come on, Tempest! Time to be a hero! You have my condolences..”

Fane almost doesn’t register the nickname, still shell shocked by what just happened, but shakes it off and nods firmly. Solas gives him a look of approval and nods at him. Fane furrows his brows in question. What was this elf’s game? It was like he was..helping him? Or was he toying with him? Fane shakes his head of those thoughts. He didn’t have time to waste on trying to figure out riddles. If he survives this then maybe, but best not to get his hopes up. He’ll just have to accept it for now. Fane straightens his stance and meets Cassandra’s smouldering glare with a fiery one of his own.

“Hope you have a plan, then, human. I’m not eager to end up a martyr.”

And what a half lie that was. Fane realizes, in that moment, that his life was no longer his to dictate. He was a slave. A slave to his memories. A slave to his body. And a slave to these humans. What bitter irony, but as they say, history repeats and he is forced to sit there and..endure. He was always meant to endure.


	9. Suledin - Chapter 8 - And So He Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane awakens in Haven after the unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Dark thoughts worm their way to the front of his mind and Fane has trouble leaving the past in the past. However, an unexpected someone could potentially push him along the right path. Will Fane be swayed or will he let the past and his own selfishness get in the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo boy, this is a long one! Things will start to pick up as we go, but this is more or less just establishing the dynamics of Fane and his first few companions. Solas and Fane's relationship is actually very interesting in the way that I envision it. At first, I thought they would absolutely hate each other, but then I thought about it a bit more and thought, "No, that's not right. It's more of a father-son type of thing.". I'm actually happy with that revelation because it'll make the later chapters really angsty! >:3   
> Aaaaanyway, enjoy this chapter!

Death. Death was not merciful. Not to him, anyways. The attempt at sealing the Breach had been..interesting to Fane. He didn’t relish the huge ass demon that didn’t seem to appreciate being pulled through the rift to the Fade and he didn’t relish the ensuing battle that followed with said demon. In fact, he barely remembers what happened. He, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas had all agreed to make their way down to the heart of the temple ruins to assess the rift leading up into the Breach. The next thing he remembers were the echoes of memory that resounded off the walls around them, giving all four of them a vague picture of the events before the explosion, but no solid answers. Fane remembers watching the apparitions of himself and Divine as he had bursted through the doors at the sound of her screams. His feelings on seeing that scene left him..confused. He would try and try to reach for the echo, but it would slip away each time his mind tried to wrap around it. He couldn’t remember. Cassandra had grabbed him while he was distracted and bombarded him with pointed questions. Demanding that he explain what it was that they were seeing. He had no answers for her and that showed with his odd silence. He had stood transfixed on the Breach and the sounds of the memories around him. He had heard screams of those caught under the rubble of the explosion, he saw blood splatter against the marble flooring as the first rocks had fallen onto those unfortunate enough to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, he did not hear himself. He did not see himself in any of those memories. He was..missing. Nonexistent. Except for that first one where he was standing before the Divine and the large, shadowy figure holding her aloft. But after that? There had been nothing. It was shrouded both in the Fade and in his own mind. 

Solas had calmed Cassandra before she could do serious harm to him and stated that what they were witnessing were past memories of what had happened, but that they may have been skewed or vague. She had released him then even as he had continued to stare into the eerie glow of the Breach. He remembers the faint push of Solas against his back, his voice sounding as if it had been leagues away, but Fane would never forget the words he uttered.

“Mala suledin nadas. ..Ir abelas, da’len.”

Fane remembers the emotions it had invoked in him. Relief. Despair. And most importantly, fear. Cold, cold fear. Not at what he had been about to face, but at the familiarity of those words. His father had used to say that phrase to him during their sessions as he tried to sickly reassure Fane when the pain became too much. Fane thought he was going to collapse right in the middle of the ruins of the temple and scream into the heavens, but instead he had snapped out of his hypnosis and had turned towards the elven mage with a renewed fire in his eyes. His voice, he recalls, did not sound right, but he remembers the elven spilling from them darkly. Words that he can no longer recall the meaning of even if he had them in front of him now.

“Na abelas. Mar solas ena mar din. Dirthara-ma.”

That had seemed to throw Solas off completely and he had recoiled from Fane in apparent surprise and..fear. The look that was in his stormy eyes had been a mixture of many emotions, but mainly questioning and trying to understand something Fane couldn’t even think of, even if he had tried. After that however..Fane can’t recall. He remembers the demon, the pain as his mark flared to stitch the rift together, the recurrence of his dark memories resurfacing, the dead whisper that kept caressing his ear ever since this began, and then nothing. Just utter blackness. He thinks it was the first time in nine years that he didn’t dream. It had been..comforting. That is until he had woken up, and in a bed this time no less. Which is where he finds himself now, face to face with a terrified elven woman who had apparently been bringing him a crate of something. The screech she lets out at the sight of Fane sitting up leaves his ears ringing painfully. He growls lowly in his chest and looks up at the frightened girl with dark eyes, still shaking off the feeling of undisturbed sleep.

“Could we not yell at the top of our lungs first thing in the morning? Thanks.”

The elven girl quickly gathers the things that she dropped and scrambles to stand up, shaking like a leaf. Fane raised an eyebrow and frowned. He knows he can be intimidating, but did he truly invoke this much fear in some people? The young girl’s voice comes out shakily as she hugs her items to her chest.

“I..I’m so sorry, milord! I..I didn’t realize you were awake!”

Fane’s eyes widen at the sudden formality of the term used for human nobility. Milord? He wasn’t some noble! He was Dalish! He groans and rubs his face with a hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s fine. Where am I?”

The girl’s eyes keep flitting to the door then back to him in a mild panic. 

“U..Uh, you are back..back at Haven, milord.. T..The Lady Seeker brought you back after..after you stopped the Breach from growing..”

Fane stops rubbing his face for a moment and looks at the hand doing it. The mark was dimly glowing and surprisingly, he felt no pain from it. Instead, it was almost warm like a wool mitten. He furrows his brow in confusion before looking back at the girl, her whole body immediately tensing at his sharp gaze and he swears he can see a faint blush on her cheeks. Oh, of course. Just what he needed. 

“Stopped growing, huh.. Wait. It’s not gone?”

The elven girl shakes her head quickly and wildly, backing away from him a little.

“N..No, milord..! L..Lady Cassandra..wanted to speak with you about it w..when you awoke!”

She bolts out the door, slamming it shut on her way out and Fane falls back onto the soft bed with a loud groan. 

“Of course I didn’t close it.. Of fucking course..”

Fane lays on top of the covers of the plush mattress before finally pushing himself up into sitting position. He runs his hands through his snowy hair and forces himself to stand. Guess he has to go see the ‘Lady’ Seeker. Just what he’s always wanted. He sighs heavily and checks himself over in a mirror and grimaces at the sight. He looks as if he should be dead. His snowy white hair is even more messy from usual. The vines of his vallaslin barely hide small cuts and bruises from where the countless demons had clawed at his face. Thankfully, his normal green and brown tunic was intact, but his armor, which was set in the corner, was a lost cause. He growls angrily at that.

“Dammit..I spent weeks crafting that..”

Another heavy sigh leaves his lips and takes comfort in the fact that his scars are at least still covered, save his left arm where the first demon he fought had tore into the overcoat of his armor. He twists his arm to inspect it and hisses slightly from the pain in his body. He was incredibly sore and it didn’t just go skin deep now. Fane crouches down to rummage through his deerskin pack. He pulls out some clean leather wrappings and decides he has time to rewrap his body. 

“The Seeker can wait. She’s going to have to.”, he thinks.

Fane starts to undress, pulling off his sleeveless tunic and beginning to peel away the demon bloodsoaked Dalish leathers. He grimaces at the crustiness and the smell. Guess he’ll have to wipe himself down too. Thankfully, there was a basin of clean water next to the mirror so Fane decides he’ll take advantage of this unexpected hospitality. As he exposes his sensitive skin to the chilly air within the cabin, he shivers slightly and starts to run a damp cloth along his arms carefully. Fane faintly growls as he accidentally rubs a bit too hard on his skin and throws the rag into the water angrily. Fane squeezes emerald eyes shut and grips the basin before taking a deep breath and opening his eyes to look at his reflection. The sight of his golden speckled and mossy green eyes makes him snarl viciously and pulls his arm back before brutally smashing his fist into his reflection, the glass shattering and falling to gather at his feet, multiple razor sharp shards embedding themselves into his hand.

“Fenehedis lasa!”

Fane grips his hand from the sharp sudden pain coursing through it. Bloody glass encapsulates his wounded hand as the blood drips down his hand to his elbow and then onto the wooden cabin floor. Fane hisses through gritted teeth and plops himself down into a wooden chair along the wall. This was ridiculous. He can’t even look at himself without violently lashing out! He squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward, clutching his hand close. 

“All I see..is his eyes. They aren’t my eyes, they’re HIS.”

Fane’s voice cracks at the last word making him go silent afterwards. It was true, though. He is practically the spitting image of his father, save his hair which used to be the same shade as his mother’s. It had been his only link to her and now that was gone, too. Fane growls angrily and balls his wounded hand tighter, the shards piercing into his skin deeper, the pain forgotten. Would this constant pity never end?!

“Why must I continuously dwell on the past?! He is gone! That was then and this is now!”

Fane opens his eyes, staring down at his hand blankly before carefully starting to extract the shards with barely a wince. Shard by shard, he clears his hand of the shattered glass and reaches for the damp cloth from before, cleaning the blood away before wrapping the cuts in a length of bandage. Fane stares at his bandaged hand for what feels like hours, thinking. Fane purses his lips as he thinks and frowns deeply. Why was he even still here? He needs to leave. He needs to get back to the clan. Hang the clan, he needs to get back to Mhairi. Between all the chaos, his sister rarely crossed his mind and that sickens him. He was supposed to be thinking of her safety and how to protect her and here he was playing hero! Hero for a bunch of Chantry loyal humans! This entire ordeal has caused him to stray from what was important. He’s losing sight of himself and the idea makes chills run down his spine. 

“Why am I here..? All I see down this path is pain.. Pain I’ve buried for years. Is there a reason for all of this, you blasted Creators? Or do you enjoy watching me suffer in your silence?!”

Fane angrily rises from the chair and throws it across the room, the chair breaking apart into several pieces. Fane roughly wraps his body, ignoring the stinging pain wracking his body, and throws on his tunic and gloves. He ties up his boots, pulling the laces close to the point of snapping. 

“I’m leaving. If that makes me a coward, then so be it. I have no place here with these humans. Let them save themselves from their own mistakes! My place is with my sister. The only place..”

Fane leaves his ruined armor and slips out of one of the cabin’s far windows. He lands softly into the newly fallen snow and scans the area around him, seeing the large wooden walls surrounding the entirety of the village in an attempt of making it seem defensible. Fane sighs and looks for a point where he can climb up. 

“Guess we’ll do this the hard way..”

Fane finds a stake that has a rougher surface and reaches up to grab purchase of the sides, beginning to shimmy his way up to the top. He barely gets half way up the stake before he hears the clearing of a throat from below. Fane freezes causing him to let go of the stake, falling right onto his backside with a grunt. Fane growls angrily and hangs his head in defeat. This elf is becoming a thorn in his side! Why won’t he leave him alone?!

“What do you want?”

Fane looks up to meet the eyes of his spectator, Solas. Blazing green meets calm blue as Solas assesses him. 

“I heard a crash from the cabin. I found the..mess you made, but there was no trace of you. So, I followed the trail.”

At that, Solas traces his path from the window, small droplets of blood leading from it and along the snow to where Fane was now seated. Fane sighs heavily and rubs his tired face with his non-injured hand. Of course he’d left a trail. How careless.

“So, you found me. What, want a medal? A pat on the head? Sorry to ruin it for you, but I’m not the type to give praise.”

Solas simply shakes his bald head and continues to watch him carefully. Fane notices he is no longer wearing his full ensemble of clothing. He was dressed in the simple cotton tunic and green leather wrappings and his staff was nowhere to be seen.

“I am aware of your..way. So far. I was simply curious.”

Fane glares at him with fiery heat and surges up from the ground to stare into the other elf’s eyes.

“Your curiosity is getting on my last nerve! Don’t you have anything better to do then hound me?! You are a stranger to me and it will stay that way! Understand?! All of you are nothing to me!!”

Solas sighs and slowly puts his hands behind his back, staring resolutely back at Fane.

“Ir abelas, but..I cannot just simply leave you be.”

Fane’s eyebrows furrow in apparent confusion and he slowly relaxes his stance.

“Why?”

Solas blinks and tilts his head making Fane annoyed at the hesitation.

“Why?!”

Solas hardens his stance before closing his eyes slowly, reaching out a hand to take a hold of Fane’s injured hand. Fane tries to pull it away, but Solas holds on firmly. The mage was oddly strong. How strange.

“You are hurt. If you wish, I can heal it for you.”

Fane blinks his now widened eyes and clenches his free hand in anger.

“You didn’t answer me!”

Solas opens his eyes once more and fixes him with a stern glare. Fane’s anger dampens at the sight and he clamps his mouth shut quickly, surprising himself. Solas seems satisfied and nods firmly, he brings his other hand around to join the other. Slowly, a blue glow emits from Solas’s hands as he begins to heal the cuts littered on Fane’s bloody hand. Fane is stunned by himself. Why had he clammed up like a scolded child? This man had no authority over him, so why?! Solas’s voice is low and quiet when he speaks next.

“Your memories cannot stay sealed forever, young one. They will haunt you until you face them. You must face them head on. The path is filled with pain and loneliness, but it will make you stronger. Isn’t that what you want? The strength to protect those dear to you? The strength to ensure what happened will never happen again? I cannot leave you be because we are similar. We have both seen and endured horrible things. However, we must endure. Always, we must endure. Think of those you love, and endure. What is happening here, threatens the world, but most of all, them. If we are nothing to you, then at least think of those you hold dear. Will you abandon them to a brutal death as the world is destroyed? Or will you fight? The choice is yours, da’len.”

Fane is silent as Solas’s words and his hand falls to his side as the healing glow disperses into the air. Solas replaces his hands behind his back and nods at him before turning to walk back to the front of the cabin, having nothing more to say. Fane watches him go with shaking eyes before his gaze goes to his newly healed hand. The bloody cuts were completely faded, his skin barely harboring any new scars. Solas had reached out to him, soothed his anger in the moment, and then gave him space. Fane growls in frustration. None of this was making sense! How was that ass seeing through him like a thin veil!? 

“What did he mean by, “we’re similar”? What would he know of my pain beyond the glimpses?! How does he know who is precious to me?!”

Fane’s chest rises and falls with his angered breathing, the cold making his lungs sting uncomfortably. He hangs his snowy head to his chest, body shaking in restraint. Fane’s words come out broken and distant.

“I have no choices in this world, Solas.. They are always made for me.. I can’t run, no matter how hard I try to..”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk to the Chantry was not what Fane had expected. He had expected most of the villagers to be hiding in their homes, fearful of this strange, suspected murder. Instead, there were throngs of them waiting along the edges of the village watching him with curiosity and reverence as he walks as quickly as he can past them. He hears soft murmurs of, “Look, it’s him!” and “He’s the one that stopped the Breach?”. More disturbing were the soft cries of, “They say he’s the Herald of Andraste! She sent him to us!”. Those comments nearly make him pass out right there in the streets. Herald..of Andraste?! They believed he was a herald of their woeful prophet?! 

“What the hell is going on..? This is ridiculous!”, Fane mutters to himself as he rushes through to his way to the Chantry, making it a point to keep his gaze forward on his destination.

The murmurs and whispers of praise continue as he tries to find his way to the Chantry, which was hard when you had people amassing in groups along the main paths. Between all the chatter, Fane’s head begins to throb and he slows his pace to grab the side of his head, trying to soothe the increasing pain. 

“Dammit! What are these headaches!?”, he painfully mutters to himself.

The pain climbs and climbs to the point where his vision starts to swim, his ear twitching at the sound of a wisping whisper.

“K..k..”

Fane furrows his thick brows in confusion at the sound and grips his snowy hair roughly. K? Where were these whispers coming from?! Fane continues to flounder around his mind to try and make sense of the sounds he’s hearing until he feels a hand clap him on his lower back. As quickly as it had come, the headache fades and the sounds stop, making his eyes refocus on the village around him.

“You okay there, Mr. Hero?”

Fane’s mossy eyes blink repeatedly as he looks down at the voice addressing him. He sees the bright smile of Varric as he regains his composure.

“Uh..yeah. I’m fine.”

Varric gives him an unconvinced look and rolls his eyes with a shrug.

“Whatever you say, Tempest.”

Fane frowns and glares half heartedly at the blonde dwarf, noticing he doesn’t have his beloved crossbow with him.

“Stop calling me that.”

Varric smirks amusedly at his curt tone, crossing his arms.

“Like I told Chuckles, no can do. Once I’ve given you a nickname, you’re stuck with it. Forever. Anyways, it looked as if you were in some kind of pain, so I decided to see if you were okay. Also, you’re making a bit of a scene doing that in the middle of the village.”

Fane rolls his eyes in irritation and looks around to see what the dwarf was going on about. And true to Varric’s word, several groups had started to congregate even more around him due to him gripping his head in pain. Fane curses under his breath and rubs his face for the hundredth time that day.

“I can never catch a break..”

Varric pats his back in an attempt to comfort him and pushes him towards the Chantry with a smile as Fane looks down at him to glare.

“Don’t you worry, Tempest! I got this.”

Varrice throws him a roguish wink which tells Fane he’s up to good and motions to the crowd excitedly.

“Attention, Haven! Have I got a tale for you! A tale of the Herald of Andraste as they descended from the heavens in radiant light, Andraste herself at their back, as they fought ten Pride demons with their bare hands!”

Fane raises an eyebrow and staggers back in surprise as the culmination of villagers race to gather around Varric, excitedly asking questions about what happened. Fane stood there, his jaw slack in wonder. How the HELL did that even work?! He was standing right here! Wouldn’t these people tackle him first if they wanted to hear something? And nothing of what Varric said was even true! There was only ONE Pride demon and he barely even remembers how he fought the damned thing! Varric sees his incredulous look and smirks, raising a finger to his lips and motioning with his head towards the Chantry, mouthing the word go. Fane shakes himself out of his shock and nods, awkwardly waving in a way of saying thanks before slipping through the excited crowd to make his way towards the Chantry. 

“These people are all so strange..”, he thinks blankly.

Fane makes his way up the steps towards the Chantry, leaving Varric to..whatever he was doing. He takes a moment to slowly look around with curious eyes. The village was quite small, as far as most human villages go, but he’s only been in a handful when travelling with his clan. He only ever went to those villages because either the Keeper asked him to do some trading or his sister wanted something. She was always ridiculously happy when he’d bring back a book or a type of accessory. However, Haven seemed more like a wannabe fortress. Those wooden stakes that Fane had tried to climb earlier lined the entire perimeter and various tents were erected between buildings to house the remaining soldiers from the Divine’s army. Certainly not a place for browsing or trading. And to Fane, it looked as if it could barely serve its current role. The few houses within Haven’s walls looked shoddily put together and could probably only house a few people at a time. Unsurprisingly, the only building that looks well built is the Chantry. Fane scoffs in disgust as he stands before the doors to the Chantry, looking up towards the roof of the large building.

“Of course their best building would be a Chantry. To the victor, go the spoils. Piety be damned.”

With a roll of his eyes, Fane shoves the large green doors out and steps inside, allowing the doors to gently fall closed behind him. Stepping into a Chantry felt strange to him. He was already in here once, of course, but that wasn’t against his will. This time, he was here on his own volition, and he felt uncomfortable. Almost as if he’s trespassing. 

Fane straightens his shoulders and scans the large halls of the Chantry with torch lit eyes. Multiple banners emblazoned with the Chantry’s symbol of a burning sun line the stone columns holding up the main structure of the building. Most of the wooden pews were propped up against the wall to make room for sacks full of supplies of unknown origin and makeshift beds for the injured pilgrims. Fane slowly walks down the long hallway, coming face to face with a large effigy of Andraste herself. He stares at it for a long hard several minutes, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Those villagers thought she had sent him to save them? A Dalish elf? One who didn’t even believe in his own gods let alone their ‘Maker’? Fane would be lying if he said that the image of Andraste wasn’t..inspiring though. He could feel a certain air of calm about the statue like it was exuding it willfully on its own.

“I wonder..would it have been different for the elves had you not died? Would we have had a home? A place to belong? Would I..have had a place to belong?”

Fane scoffs at himself. He was talking to a statue of a woman who sparked a religion that crushed his people due to a disagreement of faith. However..she wasn’t alive for that. She couldn’t have predicted, even if she was claimed as a prophet, what would happen in the event that she died. Andraste was as much a victim as the elven people. She had been..betrayed. Fane grimaces with irritation at his thoughts. None of this matters. The past cannot be undone, so there is no point in asking these questions. He will never get answers from silence. No, what has his curiosity is the sound of feuding behind the middle door at the end of the Chantry’s hall. Fane spares one last look at the towering statue before turning from it and moving towards the sound of voices behind the door. 

“He failed! And you heard him on the bridge, Seeker, he had no intention of helping! He didn’t care one wit about the countless lives that had been lost!”

Fane huffs in agitation at the voice. It was the priest from the forward camp. What was he doing here? 

“I do not believe those were his true feelings, Chancellor! He still helped despite his words! He could have killed us all if he actually did open the Breach, but he didn’t! He could barely hold his own against the demons and I SAW the visions in the temple!”

That was Cassandra. Fane groaned quietly at the voice. He was told she was waiting for him, but he really believed he was going to leave before ever having to face her again. Joke’s on him.

“Convenience, Seeker! It is an act! That..that thing on his hand is damning proof enough even if he were mute!”

“There is more to the picture!”

“No, there is NOT!”

Fane lets his head softly thud against the stone wall and he closes his eyes. Was he really going to go in there? There would be two outcomes waiting for him. One outcome is that he’d be put on trial and executed even if he had this mark on his hand. The second outcome is the one he’s dreading the most, that he’ll be forced to stay and help. To fix something that he didn’t cause in the first place! Fane squeezes his eyes tight before snapping them open, recalling Solas’s words from earlier.

“Will I abandon them or will I fight..?”

Fane pushes himself back from the wall and sets his shoulders in an attempt to steel himself, placing a gloved hand on the door, his voice sounding at the same time a whisper wiggles its way from the back of his mind, both uttering the same thing, unbeknownst to him.

“I will FIGHT.” 

Fane pushes the door open and steps towards his fate. He knows the truth of things, he is not his own master. He hasn’t been since the day he was born. He endures because he remains. And he remains because he endures. He both remains and endures because of one person. The person he will fight for. The one so precious he’ll endure all of the pain for a millenium, over and over, without a scream. 

Without a tear.

Without regret.


	10. Suledin - Chapter 9 - Home and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane finally finds a moment alone after agreeing to stay with the Inquisition. However, his brief respite is interrupted when he receives word from home.

The whole discussion with Cassandra, Leliana, and that priest, Chancellor Roderick, had Fane wanting to bash his head into the stone of the wall. It had simply been more circular arguments about what to do with him and if he was the one behind the explosion. Fane had been expecting the Seeker to eventually give in to the Chancellor, but to his surprise, she defended him, quite adamantly too, and even ran the haughty Chancellor out of the room with her conviction. However, that was a short lived surprise because the next thing Fane knew the taciturn woman had stated that his presence was not merely coincidence, it had been providence. Providence!? Fane had put his hands on his head as he breathed deeply through his nose and out his mouth, desperately trying to hold onto his temper.

“Let me get this straight. One minute you wanted me quartered in front of all of Haven because you were SO sure I caused the explosion and death of your Divine and now you’re saying I’m your divine savior!? I can handle momentary heroism, but this? This is ridiculous! You shems are like weathervanes! Flitting from one conclusion to the next!”, Fane had yelled in disbelief at the fickleness of this woman.

He recalled his voice being strained and close to losing control with anger until Cassandra had spoken to him evenly.

“I have not forgotten your words and origin, but you still acted. Action is what matters now.”, Cassandra had stated plainly to his yelling.

Fane’s mouth had gaped like a suffocating fish and he ruffled his hair in frustration. Leliana had approached him then. Her voice had been calm and even as she drew his attention from his irritation.

“We understand your doubt especially given everything that happened at the temple and leading to it. However, if nothing else, the mark on your hand is our ONLY hope of closing the Breach. You will evidently believe we are using you, but we need you. We need your help.”, she had explained evenly, her cool eyes staring him down.

Fane had stared hard at the red headed woman, his green eyes shadowed with wariness. Fane had already made his choice before walking into the room, but he had still felt that urge to run away. Cassandra had apparently seen his discomfort, and carefully approached the two of them, her footsteps having been soft for someone so heavily armored. Fane remembered flinching slightly as she reached out an armored hand towards him, her brown eyes hard.

“Help us. Please. The Divine’s Inquisition will fail without your help.”

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Fane had taken her hand and that had been the end of it. Immediately after, however, Fane had run out of the then stifling Chantry, the walls feeling as if they had been closing in on him, and ended up where he is now; sitting on a ruined dock outside Haven and staring out at the frozen surface of the lake. He had agreed to help, but for his own reasons. He stated as much to the Seeker and Leliana. It seemed to be enough, much to Fane’s relief. But now..now he needed to be alone. He just needed his thoughts and the familiar sounds of the forest, or mountain in any case. 

Fane rested his elbows on his knees as he rolled the events around in his mind, listening to the sound of evening crickets that lie in the brush around him. He wished he could stop thinking for two seconds. Just a brief respite would be nice. Fane sighed tiredly and watched the setting sun as it glinted off the sparkling ice as a group of nugs chased after each other.

“Inquisition, huh? Fitting.”, he thought with sarcasm.

Fane remembered he had nearly smashed the large table surrounding them in half at the title the Seeker gave this little ragtag band of battered soldiers and pilgrims. The Inquisition. An Inquisition generally consisted of a movement or ideal that was enacted forcibly among those who didn’t follow their creed or were suspected of heresy, he knew that much from glimpsing at the pages of Mhairi’s history books that she always had him buy. Though the Seeker and Leliana had painted a very different picture of the original Inquisition to him. They had apparently been groups of the men and women trying to restore order to a world that desperately needed stability after the fall of the Tevinter Imperium; hunting apostates and demons alike, then standing aside when they felt their work was done. But his mind could only link the Inquisition to being in the same category as the Exalted Marches. They were challenging the foundation of the Chantry’s fixed teachings even though Cassandra stated they were only seeking to seal the Breach, and they had to be fools if they thought the Chantry wouldn’t try to fight them tooth and nail to hold their relevance. Fane knew better. This was going to be a bloodbath. 

Fane rubbed his face with a hand and looked down at his boots, clicking the tips together as his legs swayed.

“What a mess. It’s a wonder something like this didn’t happen sooner..”, Fane muttered with a disdainful scoff, continuing to watch his feet as they swung back and forth slowly.

“There have been multiple occurrences. This is simply what they had all been leading up to.”

Fane blinked and looked up, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at the source of the voice. The sight had him visibly scowling in irritation. Leliana was standing at the edge of the ruined dock, watching him calmly, but calculatingly. The intensity of the stare made Fane shudder involuntarily. But he’s confused. What did she mean there had been multiple events? Oh, right, Kirkwall. He remembered hearing people at the Conclave speak of what happened there, but he hadn’t really paid much attention to that. He had been too busy trying to stay out of sight so as not to draw too much attention. Honestly, what was spoken of at the Conclave was all he could remember at the moment. Even those memories were just fragments, however. But more importantly, how did she find him so quickly? Fane shook his head slowly and turned away from the cowled woman. He was not in the mood for more pointed discussions.

“What do you want? I came out here to be alone.”, he bit out testily.

Fane’s ear twitched for a sign that Leliana would attempt to move closer to him like so many others he’s had the misfortune of meeting lately, but he heard nothing. He furrowed his brows in mild confusion and glanced back to see if Leliana was still there. Surprisingly, she was still right where she started and still watching him.

“I know.”, the statuesque woman stated plainly. 

Fane sighed, his irritation starting to rear its ugly head. He was starting to get frustrated with himself at this rate.

“Alone usually means ONE person, human. I’ve had enough of your kind for today.”, he grumbled out as he glared at his boots.

Fane watched Leliana shift, pulling something from her cloak to offer it to him. Fane blinked at the motion and turned a bit more so that his side is at least facing her somewhat, tilting his head in question.

“A..piece of paper? If you want me to communicate through notes, that’s not gonna happen, woman.”, he growled out with a scowl, truly confused by what the sister was trying to get at.

Leliana shook her head slightly and shook the piece of parchment gently, indicating for him to take it.

“That’s not what this is for. It is a letter. Addressed to you.”, she explained bluntly.

Fane’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then furrowed into an expression of wariness. His green eyes fixed themselves with Leliana’s cold blue ones as he carefully took the letter from her outstretched hand.

“A letter? From who?”, Fane asked warily, his eyes not yet leaving the shadowed woman.

“...From your clan. ...And from your sister. I made inquiries as to your origins.”, Leliana hesitantly told him.

Fane scanned the letter. It was definitely his sister’s hand writing. His mind slowly processed Leliana’s words and his eyes snapped back up to her, setting his face into a dangerous glare, a feral growl slipping past his lips.

“Wait. You..what?!”, Fane hissed angrily.

Leliana raised a hand in a show of peace and managed a tiny smile to try to calm him.

“Calm yourself. It is my job to investigate these things for the protection of the Inquisition and its members. I had done some digging when the soldiers first retrieved you from the temple. It was simply a precaution. No harm will come to your clan from this. I promise.”, she explained carefully, still holding her faint smile.

Fane’s glare deepened and he crumpled the letter slightly as his hand started to ball into a fist. He wasn’t worried about that! Fane had enough respect for his clan to know that they could get away if trouble came, but his sister.. Mhairi would insist on knowing what was happening! She was always the inquisitive one, always seeking answers and trying to weedle out secrets, whether it be about him or their people! It is the one thing that infuriated him beyond reason about his sister! While he tried to bury the past, Mhairi wanted to dig it up! And this..this human, had reached out to his clan. Reached out to HER! 

“How did you know? How did you know what clan?!”, he demanded furiously.

Fane’s voice came out as a furious hiss, his body starting to visibly shake with contained anger. Leliana watched him carefully and heaved a gentle sigh when she can see she’s upset him.

“I had my elven agents reach out to several clans. Clan Lavellan was the only one to respond. They seem concerned for you. Especially your sister.”, Leliana explained to him slowly.

Fane let out a snarl and slammed the paper on the wooden dock, the planks shaking dangerously at the impact.

“You READ it!?”, he screamed viciously.

Leliana calmly nodded, barely fazed by his violent outburst.

“I did. I read all missives that come and go from my agents. Security reasons.”, she calmly told him, clasping her gloved hands together at her lower torso.

Fane’s gloved hand balls tightly around his sister’s letter, nearly tearing it as it catches on the splintered wood of the dock. It would seem he has no privacy here. Of course. Of fucking course! How could he expect more?! Fane closed his eyes, the anger starting to blur his vision. When he next spoke, his voice dropped low and dangerous, his fury barely contained. 

“You..are NOT to involve my sister in this anymore than you already have. Do you HEAR me? I do NOT want her coming here. I do NOT want her put in danger! And if you think you can use her to manipulate me, you’d best rethink. I WILL kill you. I will make you SUFFER. So, leave her OUT of this.”, Fane spat out viciously and darkly, pointing a finger toward Leliana stiffly.

Leliana doesn’t even flinch at the threats pouring from his mouth and simply nodded, her red hair shifting gently around the edges of her blue cowl at the movement. Fane swore he could see a small smile gracing her lips as well. That made him feel confused once again. Why was she smiling when he was threatening her? These people made NO sense to him!

“As I said, no harm will come to her or your clan. And I will speak no more of her. We will not involve her unless that is what you wish.”

Fane’s anger dissipated minutely at the sister’s words. He backed down from his aggressive stance and turned back towards the iced lake, staring at the reflection of the stars and the moon as they rose in the sky. His eyes widened as he realized something, his anger fueled back up and he whipped around to face Leliana once more. 

“What else did you inquire about me?”, he demanded with a clenched jaw.

Fane could feel his heart start to hammer in his ears as he waited for a response, both dreading and wanting answers. What if she knew about his father? What if she had somehow found out about what his father had DONE? He can’t let anyone else find out! It was already bad enough that one stranger SAW what happened. All of his panicked thoughts died however, as Leliana slowly shook head.

“Only small things. Your name. Your age. Your place in the clan. Where you frequented. Your skills. Oddly, I was unable to uncover much. Your Keeper didn’t seem to have much in the way of information either. Only that you were one of your clan’s best hunters and that you are quick to anger. Your Keeper was quite adamant that we not instigate you too much..”, Leliana told him with a curious look at his question.

Fane quietly sighed in relief. Good. He wouldn’t have to explain anything. He doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. However, at the mention of his Keeper’s warning, Fane’s glare strengthened and he shook his head in disgust. Leave it to that old crow to spout unnecessary things. He already had enough problems without everyone stepping around him like he was a bomb waiting to go off!

“I don’t need more people..fearing me..”, he thinks painfully. 

He knew his temper was a problem. It had always been a problem, even before the experiments. The experiments had simply..augmented it. Augmented it so much that it led his clan to fear him as he grew older and more violent. Fane had used the fear to his advantage to keep people from finding out too much, but..such an act did provoke a feeling of emptiness within him. A feeling he himself created and now could no longer erase. So, simple consideration won’t make it go away. Especially not from these shems.

He barely recognized the softness of a voice as his own when he spoke next, “Nothing else, then?”.

Leliana raised one thin eyebrow at his question, looking at him with curiosity.

“Shit. I piqued her interest. Way to go, Fane. Idiot.”, he mentally groaned in frustration at himself, cringing slightly at himself for slipping. 

Fane steeled himself and tried to gather the will to make his glare even harder, so that the red headed human couldn't read what was behind them. Leliana continued to search his expression for an answer to her mental questions before seeming to back down. For now.

“There is one more thing..”, Leliana started with a pondering gaze.

Fane internally cursed and looked at the letter smashed between his hand and the dock, gingerly trying to smooth it out. He didn’t want to continue looking at this woman. She was like Solas. It was like she could read every little dark detail that plagued his mind. His voice came out strained, his temper bubbling to the surface again.

“What, then?!”, he hissed out in irritation and exasperation.

He just wanted to be alone for five damn minutes! Was that too much for these people to understand?!

Once again, Leliana barely reacted to his terse tone, her voice calm and even. 

“I also came to tell you that we require you for a meeting some time tomorrow evening in the Chantry. Cassandra plans to speak about what our next step is and some introductions need to be made. However, you may take your time making your way there. If it becomes too long however, Cassandra will likely hunt you down. Fair warning. Now, I will leave you alone. Good night..”

At that, Fane heard Leliana quietly walk away from him, her footfalls so soft that he could barely make out the sound of crunching ice and snow beneath her feet. He only looked up when he no longer sensed her presence and sighed loudly in relief.

“Finally..”, he whispered breathlessly.

Despite feeling relief at the departure of the enigmatic sister, Fane couldn’t help but still feel uneasy about the nature of their conversation. Leliana had said no harm would come from her inquiries, but everything comes with a price eventually. He just hoped it would not be enacted on his sister. If harm came to her because of his involvement in this mess he would..

Fane sighed, plagued by his dark train of thought. He cut it off before it could delve into darker territory. He didn’t need to have that on his mind. Not now. 

He gazed up at the steadily rising moon as he turned back around, his legs dangling over the edge of the dock once more. As he gazed at the moon, he felt a wave of calmness wash over him and he closed his eyes to bask in it. Very few things invoked this feeling of serenity in him, and the moon was one of them. Perhaps, it was the bright glow and gentle pallor, or it was the thought that something always stayed the same no matter what happened below. The moon would rise and fall with the sun, day after day, night after night. It was predictable, and predictability soothed him. He took a deep breath of icey air, cracking his eyes open, the gold in his eyes mirroring the soft yellows of the moon as he gazed at it once more.

“Allow me this, Creators. Please, just this once.. Allow me to find peace in your silence when it otherwise infuriates me. Please..”, he pleaded almost desperately.

He stared at the glowing entity in the star littered sky, thinking it could answer his request. But no. It could not. It was silent. Silent, just like his gods, but instead of sweet release, he only felt yearning. Yearning for a sound, any sound, to indicate he was not alone despite his plea to hear silence. In actuality, he wished to hear. He wanted them to dash all his expectations and prove him wrong. To prove that what has happened and what will happen was not just some cruel joke. Fane sighed heavily once more, and let his eyes fall close, hoping to hear a whisper of anything. 

“Please..”, he pleaded brokenly once more.

No presence of a whisper caressed his ear this time, despite its insistence during all the chaos, and that put the nail in the coffin for Fane’s continuously waning faith. He would always be met with the same thing, he concluded, and that was silence.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	11. Suledin - Chapter 10 - Broken Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane reads Mhairi's letter which invokes emotions he hasn't felt in a long time due to the symbolism behind a childhood memory.

Dear Brother,

By Mythal, Fane, are you trying to give me a heart attack?! We all thought you had died! We heard news of the explosion of the Conclave when the clan passed by Wycome to do some trading, and I’m not lying to you when I nearly burst out into tears within its streets! I TOLD you to behave yourself! I was not kidding when I said I can’t lose you! I only felt relief when those agents from the ‘Inquisition’, (is that what they’re really calling themselves?), sent word that you were alive! And of course the relief was short lived when I heard you had been ACCUSED of causing the explosion! While you were capable of destroying half an aravel and several training dummies when you were with the clan, I refused to believe you could ever kill thousands of people simply on a whim, but still! The fact that you had even BEEN accused makes me want to strangle you, Fane!

I’m sorry, brother. I’m not trying to place blame on you, but you MUST stop letting your emotions control your actions. I know that’s easier said than done, but please try. You should know that beyond me, the clan cares for you as well, no matter your opinion on the matter. I couldn’t live with myself if I had been the one leading you to an early grave since I pushed you into attending the peace talks, even knowing you detested the thought of being surrounded by humans. It would be like I killed you indirectly, and that’s the last thing I would ever want. 

The agents said you would be staying with the Inquisition, but they wouldn’t explain the details as to why, and they kept asking the Keeper questions concerning you. I don’t know why they wouldn’t just ask you yourself. The Keeper thought they still suspected you, I guess, and were holding you prisoner, but the agents assured her that wasn’t the case any longer. I hope when you receive this letter you will explain everything. I want to know that you are safe, that you are there of your own volition, and not bound in chains in a human dungeon. I begged the Keeper to let me come to you, but she refused. She said you wouldn’t want that and that I would be safer here. I don’t care about safety! I care about YOU! But, I will respect her wishes, UNLESS, you get into even more trouble! Then I will come to you even if you don’t want me to! 

I’m not a little girl anymore, Fane. My magic has improved rapidly, according to the Keeper, and I’m still practicing with the staff you gifted me for my birthday. I can hold my own if I need to. You don’t have to protect me all the time. Please think about that, okay?

I know it’s foolish to ask you to stay safe and behave, but please, try. For me. For the clan. This is a chance for you to make your own name and find the purpose I know you’ve always been yearning for. But you need to try. Make us proud. So, make an effort with these people. Don’t let looks deceive you. They can help you as much as you can help them, but you have to let your guard down. Don’t be so quick to bite and judge, brother. You can find a family in the most unlikely of places if you open yourself to it, and since I am not there with you, you may have to do just that. Give it some thought, I know you're always stuck in that thick skull of yours anyways! 

Well, I’ll stop bothering you. For now. Please keep me updated about how you’re doing. I miss you and I love you. Never doubt that. Dareth shiral, brother.

With all my love,

Mhairi

P.S. Oh, I left you a present with the letter. It’s a little crudely made, but I tried! I hope you’ll like it! It took me over a week and many angry glares from the craftmaster to make! But it has an enchantment on it! To keep you safe until you come back to me. Which you better do. You better, Fane. And I don’t mean in pieces or with a thousand bleeding wounds. Got it?

Fane read and reread Mhairi’s letter at least a hundred times that night after he came back from the docks. It was completely unnecessary, he knew that, but he found comfort in hearing from her. He found comfort in knowing she was safe. Fane let his head rest against the surface of the small wooden table that had been set up in the hut he was granted in Haven, even though he had insisted to the Seeker he did NOT want it. Right now, however, Fane was something akin to grateful for the privacy. He heaved a heavy, relieved sigh into the wood and felt a slight hitch in his breath.

“She’s okay.. She’s safe.. Thank goodness..”, he murmured shakily, tangling a hand in his snowy hair.

Fane forced himself to swallow the lump rising in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the urge to cry. Now was not the time to give in to emotion. However, he hadn’t felt this much relief in years, even when Mhairi was right next to him most of the time, so it was hard to hold it back, but he must. If he fell apart now, after years of not allowing himself to, he would never stop. No. There would be time for this later. Hopefully. Granted he survived what was to yet come. 

Fane sat up from his spot on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose harshly and sniffling quietly. Creators, when was the last time he was on the verge of tears? He couldn’t even remember. Probably not since..everything. Fane knocked himself on the side of the head with an irritated growl. Enough. No more. Again, now was NOT the time for any of this.

Fane rubbed eyes furiously, wiping away the wetness that was just about to flow from the edges.

“Get it together, you fool.”, he chastised himself harshly, letting his hands fall from his eyes when didn’t feel anymore tears.

Fane gingerly sat and folded the note into a small square, tucking it away in his overcoat for safekeeping before looking at the present his sister had mentioned. He held it up in front of his face and tilted his head to examine it more closely.

It was..a locket, he surmised. Mhairi was right, it wasn’t the most finely crafted piece of jewelry, but he could still tell what it was at least. Fane managed a dry chuckle and let the locket gather into the palm of his empty hand. 

“Hm, she’s still obsessed with hallas, it seems. Silly girl..”, he murmured fondly, his sharp emerald eyes softening slightly at the twirling locket.

Fane traced the pattern on the medallion of the locket, it was a carving of two halla, one larger and one smaller. The two halla were facing each other and were seemingly butting heads in a sign of affection towards each other. The edges were decorated in crude but meticulous vines, enveloping the entwined pair. He smiled fondly at the image, remembering the times he had seen his clan’s halla do the exact same ritual when they had chosen a mate, or when they were greeting those of their own kin. 

“I must be the larger one and she, the smaller. How predictable of her. No longer a little girl, huh? You don’t fool me, Mhairi..”, he whispered with a fond shake of his snowy head. 

Fane gently flicked the small clasp on the side of the locket that kept the medallion together, and the contents inside had him frozen on the spot. Inside was the blooming bud of a white flower with deep pink lining the edges all the way around its petals. The flower that Mhairi had found once, when they were walking in the forest around camp, shortly after one of his first sessions with father. Fane had still managed to go with her despite the pain that wracked his body then, not yet desensitised to the feeling. She had smiled at Fane then, and said he looked sad, so she wanted to give him a flower to make him happy. Mhairi had called it a ‘Gladiolus’. She had once told him it meant ‘strength’ in the language of flowers, an explanation Fane had scoffed at, at the time, but now he realized the importance of the symbolism. His sister had seen Fane was struggling, and wanted to make it better. She always wanted to make it better, even not knowing what was wrong. After that first time, his sister would always give him a small bundle of Gladiolus whenever she would go traipsing through the woods. And each one..Fane would save despite always telling her not to bother. But Mhairi would continue to gather them for him, and she would smile that smile of hers every time he would scold her for being careless. He remembered the small smile that would crack his carefully hardened mask at the sight of her running towards him with the flowers gently cradled in her arms. He remembered the dull light growing into a bright glow in his emerald-gold eyes every time she would shove them in his face. He remembered a time..when the two of them were just children, untouched and unmarred by pain and tragedy.

Fane reached out slowly and lovingly thumbed one of the soft petals of the little bloom. It was so soft. It reminded him of home. Suddenly, his vision blurred, the flower becoming fuzzy to his eyes. He blinked in confusion at the appearance of the watery veil obscuring his vision. It’s not until he felt warmth rolling down his cheeks that Fane realized he was crying. He gingerly touched his cheek with one hand and felt the warm wetness as he located the trail of tears steadily pouring from his eyes.

“S..Shit.. Am I crying? W..What..?”, he asked himself with mild disbelief.

Fane vigorously rubbed at his eyes, surprising himself further when the tears continued to come. 

“D..Dammit.. I..I knew this would- I need to- Oh..Creators, I miss her..”, he sobbed brokenly as the longing for his sister grew unbearable.

Fane couldn’t lie to himself. He missed his sister. He missed his sister so terribly it hurt. Never has he had to be away from Mhairi for this long, and the thought of never being able to see her again felt like a knife to his heart. He swore it was a worse pain than what his body endured from father. The flower only made Fane miss her more. It made him miss those days, while not good, they were days that were made bearable because of his sister. 

Fane covered his eyes with his arm, leaning back in his chair. He chewed on the bottom of his lip as a small hiccup escaped from his throat, the tears increasing in volume at the sound. He sat in that same position for what seemed like an eternity, letting the tears roll down his cheeks and disappear as they traversed his neck. Small hiccups and sniffles escaped from time to time, but for the most part, Fane kept himself silent, allowing just the tears to stream unrestrained down his face.

Fane swallowed the lump pulsating in his throat once more as he felt the trail of tears begin to dry along his cheeks and neck, making his skin feel taunt like a knocked bow. He slowly removed his arm covering his tear reddened eyes, and stared up at the ceiling tiredly. 

Fane’s voice sounded different to him when it next came out, strained and broken, “Know that I miss you, too, my sister.. I will come back to you, so that you do not need to come to me. So, please, stay home. Stay safe. And know that, no matter what may come, I..love you, too.”

Fane suppressed a small grimace as his mouth tried to say the word ‘love’ evenly. He had always had trouble with the word. Perhaps, because he's never truly understood the concept of love, even when his sister had blatantly shown it to him in so many different ways. He had never paid much attention, and now, Fane wished he had. He wished he would have etched each display into his mind so it would replay for him for eternity. Maybe, just maybe, it would have made the days just a bit more bearable. 

With a lethargic sigh, Fane pushed himself up from his reclined position, and delicately placed the budding Gladiolus back into the locket, clicking it shut with a firm snap. He ran his thumb along the patterns of vines and hallas before putting the ironbark chain around his neck, clasping it behind his neck and letting the small medallion hang low. Fane carefully tucked the locket under his tunic, giving it a soft pat before putting his head back on the table, laying his head on his arms as his fingers played with his bleached snow white hair absentmindedly.

“This is why I hate crying.. I feel like shit afterwards..”, he complained to himself, still sniffling quietly..

The gentle pull of sleep made his eyelids begin to droop, the light from the fire dimming as his eyes slowly close. The cradling warmth encapsulating the hut made his body relax and Fane felt the hand that was playing with his whitened strands plop down on the table. Vibrant sounds surrounding the cabin and the village of Haven started to subside into quiet murmurs as his mind went black. However, not before his mind simply begged for a dream instead of a nightmare. A dream of brighter days amidst sun and blooming flowers. Just for one night.

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	12. Chapter 11 - No Better Slavery than Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane has a rough night after reading his sister's letter which leads him to some rash accusations as to his place within the infant Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fairly short chapter since my brain was having trouble finding traction, but I decided to just do a bit more character building on Fane. I might come back and revise it, but we'll see.

That would be the last time Fane let his mind actively wish for peaceful dreams. 

He had awoken late that next day, feeling a heavy weight on his broad shoulders as his mind lifted from a night of horrific nightmares. As he slowly sat up from the wooden desk, feeling his back protest with pain from the odd positioning. Fane groaned as a deep throbbing coursed through his head as the weight transferred from his shoulders to his head. 

“That nightmare.. They’ve never been that vivid before..”, he croaked out, his vision swimming as his head pounded.

Fane’s night terrors were always something he could remember. He would remember the sounds, the sights, and the smells, but last night’s terror.. He had been able to  _ feel _ what was happening to him. He could  _ feel _ his father’s knives carving into him as they cut away his skin. He could  _ feel _ the searing burn of magic as it set his blood on fire. He could  _ feel _ the blood trickling down his arms in rivers. He had felt it as if it was happening for the first time all over again. Slowly, Fane raised a shaky hand to rub at his tired face, his breathing becoming slightly labored from the panic that rose in his chest. He knew this part well, but the revelation that he had actually been able to perceive touch during his nightmare had thrown him completely off.

“How did that happen..? That’s never happened before. I’ve felt whispers of pain in those dreams, but never like  _ that. _ ”, he breathed out shakily as he continued to rub at his face.

Fane felt a prickling pain coming from his right hand as he rubbed at his face. He barely perceived the tingling until it sharply snapped up his arm like a switch.

“Fuck!”, he hissed angrily, uncovering his face with his hand to glare at the faintly glowing mark on his right hand.

It seemed once he acknowledged the sickly green mark, it dimmed down to a mere flicker, leaving just a soft pulsating rhythm that coursed up his arm and then back down to his fingertips. Fane narrowed his eyes with an irritated growl, clenching his mark bearing hand into a fist.

“I am so  _ sick _ of magic being forced on me.”, he growled, harshly pushing himself up from his seat to stand.

The room spun as Fane rose to his full height, nearly making himself crash into the edge of the table. He quickly threw his arms out to catch himself on the edge of the desk, closing his eyes. His vision was already shaky because of the pain coursing through his head, but now he had to deal with the lack of stability. Nothing could be simple. Nothing! As the dizziness slipped away, leaving Fane with just a heavy feeling, he cracked his eyes open to look out the window. An even more irritated sound came out of him as he groaned when he realized it was well past noon. Why did he keep sleeping so late? Mhairi had mentioned it to him the day before he left to come to this blighted place. He hadn’t thought anything about it. He simply thought it was how his body was trying to catch up on the lack of sleep it inevitably always got. A heavy sigh came from Fane’s lips as he opened his emerald eyes more. However, it seemed every time he had a terror, he would sleep like the dead. That’s the pattern that made the most sense to him, at any rate. 

“Tch, I don’t have time to dwell on it. Snap out of it, you pathetic fool.”, he harshly berated himself. 

With one final sigh, Fane stood up straight, squaring his broad shoulders to act as if he had some kind of strength left in his body. He had a feeling he was going to need it, even if it was just an act. He needed to go. He was ‘needed’. No, a  _ person _ was needed. A  _ tool _ was used. 

“A tool. Nothing more.”, he bit out around a pained growl, his head throbbing as his irritation grew.

Fane moved slowly around the room as he gathered his things, almost as if moving carefully would mitigate the pain wracking his head. Instead, it only seemed to intensify the sharp throbbing. It was as if his head was rushing him to move faster. An angry snarl ripped from his throat at that thought. The last thing Fane needed was his head dictating his life like all the rest. He shook his head slowly, regretting the action as another throb and a wave of dizziness came. 

“Stop wallowing and suck it up.”, he snarled at himself, not noticing the increased deepness of his voice as he spoke, his mind too fed up with being weak. 

The dizziness came and went as Fane dressed into some fresh clothes and hooked his sword to his belt. Just as he felt he was finally fit enough to walk out the door, a sharp wave of nausea rose to his throat. Ah, he’d almost forgotten this part. The fact that Fane even had a system for mornings after his nightmares was pathetic.  _ He _ was pathetic. 

Fane clamped a hand over his mouth as he harshly swallowed back the coming bile that pooled in his throat. He grimaced with disgust as the taste rolled around on his tongue. Several times, the same bile tried to resurface, but he would forcibly swallow it back down. He panted harshly as he finally succeeded in forcing the vomit back, running a shaky hand through his snow white hair as he gasped for air.

“I need to go.”, he whispered to himself tiredly, his whole body trembling with sickness as he finally willed himself to walk out the door of the cabin.

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When he had finally managed to make it to the Chantry, Cassandra was waiting for him just beyond the large green doors, looking like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. As soon as she spotted Fane’s body appear through the doors, she had pounced on him with a hard glare. Fane made it a point to look straight ahead, his emerald golden eyes as hard as glass.

“Where have you been?”, the Seeker demanded harshly, her arms crossed across her chest.

Fane felt his irritation tiredly bubble at the tone as he pointedly walked past the fuming woman. He didn’t want another argument. Not now. Not today.

“Sleeping.”, he muttered plainly, his voice devoid of the anger his body felt.

Cassandra blinked as he glided past her, obviously taken aback by his lack of venom. Fane almost smirked at that. Almost. He heard heavy footsteps follow after him quickly as he continued towards the back of the Chantry. His pointed ears twitched in agitation when Cassandra cleared her throat as she came up beside him.

“Well, it doesn’t look as if that’s what you were doing.”, Cassandra stated plainly, looking at his face with a tiny hint of concern.

Fane openly scoffed at her comment, throwing her a weak, but venomous glare. Was he to be interrogated again? He thought not. 

“Very perceptive. No wonder you’re called a ‘Seeker’. Tch.”, he growled out harshly, feeling his mark buzz uncomfortably at his rising anger.

Cassandra blinked once again at his reaction. Fane watched as her brow furrowed with more genuine concern when she noticed his mark flash quickly.

“Does the mark still bother you? Solas had said it was supposed to quiet down with the Breach being stable..”, she asked, stopping in front of him.

Fane sighed heavily, lifting his marked hand carefully to glare at it with disdain. He had to laugh to himself because the damn thing had the audacity to be visible even through his glove. What an absolute nuisance. Cassandra raised a dark eyebrow at his quiet chuckle, crossing her toned arms once again. Fane glanced up at the sound of her movement, the torches in the Chantry making the gold spark to life within them for a second.

“It feels like a whip as it cracks against a slave’s back. So does it bother me? Not at all.”, he grumbled as he clenched his fist tightly, the leather creaking at the pressure.

Cassandra gave him a hard look before she relaxed her arms. He rolled his eyes slightly at the display. He was honestly getting tired of constantly being interrogated by these humans. Cassandra gave him a stern glare at the eye rolling as she motioned towards the door to the room they had been in two days ago.

“I understand. I am sure it is not a pleasant experience for you. However, it is still needed since the Breach is not yet sealed. Solas believes that if we fuel the mark with more power, it can finally close it. I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”, she explained apologetically, watching Fane’s face carefully.

Fane shook out his pulsating hand slightly with a tired sigh at the Seeker’s curt apology. Who was she trying to fool? He knew this was how it was going to be. They didn’t need him. They needed this blasted magic coursing through his arm. He was nothing more than a tool, so why did they continue to act as if they cared about his contribution? That they cared about  _ him _ ? Fane growled with agitation, waving off the Seeker’s fluid concern with a flick of his hand.

“Sorry? When you’re the one cracking the whip? Your pity is no better than  _ slavery _ .”, he said coolly with equally as hard cold eyes, pushing open the door with a bit more force than what was necessary.

That's what this was. That's what this always had been from the start. The minute this mark was branded onto him, without his knowledge or consent, he was a slave. A slave to the magic that coursed through his arm. A slave to these humans who had changed their opinions of him like fickle children. A slave to _pity_. Fane already had enough pity coming from himself, and he didn't need more from these people! No, one person was enough; one _demon_ was enough.

He missed Cassandra’s incredulous glare at his words as the door slammed against the stone wall loudly, causing particles of dust rain down in a fine mist. Fane growled at himself at the lack of control as he saw three other people staring at him with bewildered expressions, evidently having heard his venomous words before he barged in as well from the thunderous sound of the wooden door meeting stone. He heard Cassandra sigh loudly behind him in exasperation.

With a tired and sheepish expression, Fane motioned at the door with a limp hand, “Sorry.”, he mumbled out tiredly.

This was going to be a long,  _ long _ day.


	13. Chapter 12 - The Power of Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane continues to struggle with his emotions towards his role in the Inquisition. However, a revelation after a talk from a certain Commander has Fane questioning his actions.

“Herald! This is not a game you can leisurely play on a whim!”

Fane’s short, pointed ears twitched minutely at the sound of a familiar, but unwelcome voice. His hooded emerald eyes slowly tracked the figure of the fuming Seeker from his perch on a thick branch high up in one of Haven’s many trees, letting a leg dangle precariously over the edge with the heel of his boot tapping against the wood softly. He watched with mild amusement as the Seeker stopped anyone and everyone, likely questioning them about his whereabouts. However, Fane had placed himself in the very tree he was now sitting in because he didn’t want anyone finding him. Not right now. Not after the debacle of a ‘meeting’ that had taken place earlier in the afternoon. 

After his ‘graceful’ entrance into the small room of the Chantry, the discussion had turned chaotic on a dime. And by chaotic, he meant that it was more circular arguments about who was right and who was wrong. Not to mention, the introductions, that Leliana had mentioned the night before, had gone as well as Fane had expected. Which is to say, not well at all. He had barely given the acting Commander and Ambassador a second glance after seeing their faces from his actions and his words toward Cassandra before entering the room. Fane had seen the same thing he always did when he was still with his clan; wariness and fear. He kept trying to convince himself that he didn’t care what these humans thought of him or his actions, but for some reason, it still  _ hurt _ . He had to wonder why. Even so, it was best if he just kept his distance from these people. So, he had decided to simply not look at the Commander and Ambassador. That’s not to say he hadn’t given them any acknowledgement. Fane knew their names at the very least. That had to count for something, right? 

However, that had not been the reason he was hiding away from the world now. No, the reason was the increasingly angry Seeker who was still calling after him. No, wait. Not  _ him _ . The Seeker wasn’t calling for Fane. She was calling for the  _ Herald of Andraste.  _ His mistake.

“Herald! Enough of this!”, the Seeker bellowed for him angrily, her face twisted in disgust and rage.

Fane continued to watch the Seeker silently, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he rested his head against the trunk of the large tree. His freckled face lifted slightly in a silent snarl, his vallaslin morphing from the action as he heard the cursed title come from the Seeker’s lips.  _ That _ was the primary source of his anger. Fane had been listening with mild interest during the meeting until that disgusting title had reached his ears. It had taken everything in his being not to shout at the top of his lungs with disbelief and rage. He remembered the conversation clearly. It had not been pretty.

_ “The Chantry will not give us support due to believing us to be enemies. Especially since people are dubbing you the ‘Herald of Andraste’. It frightens them, to be frank.”,  _ he remembered the Ambassador, Josephine, explaining to him carefully as she had smiled at him.

He had barely been able to think clearly after hearing that rumor spill from Josephine. His mind had been streaming through several difficult emotions of anger, disbelief, amusement, and utter  _ hatred _ . Fane could still clearly hear the whining of his leather gloves as he had been clenching and unclenching his hands to reign in his temper.

“ _ I’m  _ **_what_ ** ?!”, he had hissed with a dangerous glare, his nostrils had been flaring as he had tried to regain his composure.

Fane could remember the immediate regret when his glare caused Josephine to flinch visibly as her eyes had filled with wariness and doubt. It had only caused his agitation to mount even higher. Always with the fear. Always! Cassandra had intervened then before the situation could spiral out of control. Fane felt a scoff rise in his throat as he thought back at that. The Seeker clearly hadn’t been paying attention if she thought that simple words could have calmed him. No, the die was cast the minute he had heard the word ‘Herald’ and ‘Andraste’ within the same sentence.

“ _ The Herald of Andraste. Many people believe she sent you to help us because of the voices we heard at the Temple and the rumor of a woman behind you in the rift you fell out of. They believe it was Andraste herself. _ ”, he recalled the Seeker telling him with a hint of a hopeful smile.

At that, all Fane could remember at present was the resounding crack that had been the already battered door as he stormed out in a cloud of fury. He was no Herald of anything! He never would be! And these humans just thought he’d go along with it because it could be good for ‘morale’?! What an absolute joke! So, to distance himself from the idea of leveling the entire mountain village with his anger, Fane hid in the tree he was in now and silently kept watch as soldiers scurried to and fro in search of him. 

“Fools. They’re like insects.”, he muttered under his breath with a tired sigh.

His body was still extremely weak from the effects of his nightmares from the night before. So, this little stunt of his was proving to be useful in two different ways. In one way, it allowed him a moment of rare solitude. And in another way, it would actually allow him to get some sleep, even if it was merely dozing off. With a soft yawn, Fane let his hooded eyes fall closed with the intent of resting them. He was always extremely tired, but these last few days had proved to be extremely taxing with his normal tiredness just simply increasing it. All he wanted was a few minutes. A few minutes to recharge and calm down, so that he could think more clearly. Fane could feel sleep pulling on the fringes of still aching head until he felt a soft knock coming from the base of the tree. 

“Herald?”, he picked up a somewhat familiar voice from the base of the tree.

Fane’s eyes opened slowly with a quiet, but defeated sigh as he sat up carefully so as not to fall off his branch. Guess the jig was up. So much for that idea of sleep. But, who had found him so quickly? With another sigh, this one more audible, he leaned to the side a bit to look down at his successful tracker. Snowy eyebrows shot up slightly in shock as Fane’s emerald eyes locked with warm amber ones.

“Commander?”, he asked with a slight tilt of his head, the tiredness seeping into his voice even more now.

Who he was indeed looking at was the Commander of the Inquisition’s meager forces, Cullen. Fane hadn’t really taken in the Commander’s appearance when they were first introduced, but he had queued into the man’s voice enough to be able to recognize it. It was a voice that had Fane constantly trying to place where exactly it originated. His snowy brows furrowed in mild confusion at the Commander’s presence. Again, how had he found Fane so quickly? He had covered his tracks on his way here, but the human had still found him. Creators, he was so tired of this. Emerald eyes hardened to cover tiredness as he saw Cullen’s stern expression. Great. Another person to try and lecture him it would seem.

“What are you doing up there, Herald?”, the Commander asked him as he crossed his arms across a broad chest.

Fane stared at the man for several minutes before he disappeared from the Commander’s line of sight once more, ignoring him completely. Pointed ears twitched once again as he heard a heavy, tired sigh come from below. His mouth upturned into a slight smirk at the sound before resting his head against the tree once more.

“Herald.”, he heard the Commander’s deep voice once more, the man sounding increasingly more annoyed.

Fane growled under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did these people always try to push him? They may not know him very well, but his displays thus far should have been enough to show them his triggers. Shouldn’t they be avoiding him? That would be easier for Fane to endure than whatever  _ this _ was! He pulled his hand from his face slowly, watching the flickering from his mark with a hard expression. Fine. If the man wanted him to explain himself, then he’ll explain.

“Tell me something, Commander. How do you think it feels having your identity thrown about like a leaf in the wind? Like it matters little to nothing to anyone but you?”, he called down without moving from his spot, absently looking at his marked hand with mild disgust.

He slowly balled his marked hand into a fist, watching the magic crackle around the seams of his hand faintly. Ever since he woke up with this mark on his hand, he had been flung around like a rag doll. A vile prisoner, at first, accused and hated for something he couldn’t remember doing. Eyes of anger and disgust as he walked with his head held high because he would be damned if these humans would ever bring him down low. A savior, second. Revered and sought after. Anger had been replaced with hope and awe as news of his exploits had reached the once accusatory pilgrims. And now..now, he was being hailed as ‘divine’. He would never be divinity because divine beings did  _ not  _ exist! There were merely men, elves, dwarves, and qunari. All mortal, none divine. All that these fools had in common was that they could twist a single person into something they were not simply to  _ use _ them. Sadly, he was that unlucky person now. He wasn’t lying when he said pity was no more than slavery. However, now it wasn’t pity that bound him, it was the  _ hope  _ of fools. Fane clenched his jaw in agitation as he rolled the word around in his mind, feeling his head begin to throb once more. 

“How do you think it feels to be nothing more than a  _ puppet _ ? To not even have control over your own name?! I am  _ not _ your Herald and I will not pretend to be so simply to give all of you false hope that your silent ‘Maker’ is real! I don’t even believe in my own gods. What makes you think I’ll believe in yours?”, he snarled out angrily, slamming his marked hand down on his thigh to claw at it desperately.

Fane felt the skin under his clawing hand prickle with pain, but he felt no inclination to stop as it increased. To be fair, the pain was the only thing keeping him in control right now. A soft, but awkward clearing of a throat had Fane somewhat glancing over the edge of the branch once more. He saw the Commander clenching his arms from where they were crossed across his chest as his gaze was turned downward slightly as he seemed to mull over how he should respond. Fane’s eyebrow raised slightly at the sight of the thinking human. Now that was something he wasn’t used to. Normally, if it were the Seeker or that Chancellor, they would immediately respond with some nonsense, but the Commander wasn’t. He was actually  _ thinking _ about how to respond to Fane’s rage fueled words. Fane made a quiet noise of interest as he swung his legs over the branch to sit on the edge of it. He watched as the Commander lifted his head from his thoughts to blink up at the elf before his face hardened in a serious expression. 

“I do understand how it feels. Perhaps not exactly in the same way, but I know what it feels like to not know your place in the world.”, the Commander finally said to him after several moments of silence, the only sounds having been the breeze from the mountains and the chirping of snow birds.

Fane rested an elbow on a lithe, muscled leg as he rested his chin in his hand to stare down at Cullen with interested hooded eyes. Now that he looked at the Commander more closely, he could admit that the human was rather pleasing to look at. His amber eyes reminded Fane of honey and wood, both were warm and effective. The man’s face was etched with a tiredness Fane could relate to, but also held a chiseled strength. His build was what Fane expected of a human man, but it almost seemed as if the Commander was forcing his stance a bit. Almost as if he had some kind of lingering pain working through his body. He only noticed it because Fane often found himself doing the same thing when his scars would ache. The Commander wore heavy metal armor that was wrapped in equal measures of thick red velvet and heavy fur to ward off the cold mountain air. Fane thought he must be familiar with the area to be dressed accordingly, unlike much of the other stupid pilgrims. He had to say the color made the man look even more appealing. Fane blinked slowly before shaking his head harshly, scoffing quietly at himself. What was he doing? Getting all soppy eyed at a human? What a ridiculous train of thought! The Commander simply piqued his interest is all. Nothing more. Anyways.. 

“ _ That was an interesting response. But what does he know of displacement when he’s part of a race that is given everything? He’s had a home, a place to belong. He’s had choices on where his life would lead. I have not.”, _ Fane thought as he tapped his cheek with his anchoring hand.

With a soft sigh, his interested gaze turned into a hard glare towards the blonde man as his tapping intensified.

“Oh? How so? You were a normal human first with nary a care in the world. Then, you were a templar, something I’m going to assume you  _ chose _ . Now, you’re a commander of a growing organization. Once again, something that was c _ hosen by you _ . You may have had many titles, Commander, but they were never  _ forced  _ on you. Mine have been forced onto me, unwillingly. I was never given an offer or a bargain. This arrangement does not benefit me in any way. It only benefits you humans.”, Fane said as he motioned to the still scurrying soldiers before pointing at the furrowed brow Commander.

Fane watched as Cullen’s face was akin to something between confusion and hard thought. He rolled his eyes slightly before pushing himself off the branch, landing right in front of Commander with only a slight wince from the impact as it shook his strong legs. Cullen stepped back with a bewildered expression as Fane stood to his full height, the Commander only slightly taller than him. That was an irritating thought to Fane. Last thing he wanted was to be looked down on even if it was only a little bit. He crossed his arms across his chest as emerald eyes met amber brown. He stared hard at the Commander as he stood straight once more, his bewilderment wearing off. He was a bit intrigued by this human. Cullen was proving to be a tad amusing, if Fane was being honest. The man’s words were calculated and thought out which allowed for Fane, in turn, to formulate his own response without rage guiding his words. It was..refreshing. However, the man was still infuriating to Fane. Especially right now with the Commander having found his hiding spot like it was nothing. The prickly elf waited to see if Cullen would respond to him once more, leaning back against the tree he had just been in. Cullen seemed to be assessing his demeanor before sighing heavily, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“I have seen enough to know that some things, no matter if you’re given a choice, are ultimately out of your control. These are things you cannot choose. These are things you can only prepare for. And even then, it is not enough.", Cullen said with a hint of pain lacing his voice, the sound made Fane narrow his eyes slightly before the blonde human roughly cleared his throat to continue, "Anyhow, each of our names are from the choices of others, aren’t they? We didn’t choose them when we were born. A title is just another name that is attached to the one you first bear. And none of them offer benefits, only burdens.”, Cullen said to him carefully, his amber eyes searching Fane’s expression for any hint of anger.

Fane’s face fell at Cullen’s careful words as his snowy brow furrowed in contemplation. Each of their names were the choices of others.. Cullen meant their parents. Fane supposed there was some truth to the man’s statement. He didn’t choose his name, that was true. Fane’s name was a choice his father had made. Emerald eyes widened slowly as he gripped his arms tightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in a snarl as the thought of his tormentor popped into his mind. He faintly noticed Cullen’s face turn into a frown as he saw his shift in mood.

_ “Father chose my name. He chose literally everything that happened in my life. The torture, my personality, everything! Why should I let more people steer my life?! I have never been given a choice! Never! I know burdens better than anyone here! I chose to..!”,  _ Fane thought to himself angrily, beginning to shake slightly before his entire body stilled with a revelation.

He..chose to.. His father didn’t choose everything for him.  _ Fane _ did.  _ He _ offered to be the subject in his father’s experiments to keep Mhairi safe.  _ He _ chose to stay silent of the pain and torture in fear of what his father would do.  _ He  _ chose to push people away instead of letting them in! And now, despite his protesting, he was allowing these people to do as they wished. He had  _ chosen _ to let them. And in retaliation to his own blindness, he played the victim, the pitiful slave. When he was actually the instigator. No..that couldn’t be right! It couldn’t! But then why did it make so much sense when he echoed the words in his mind!? Fane’s shoulders went lax with defeat as his hands, that had been gripping his coat near tearing, fell to his sides. He knew why. Because it was the truth, and the truth  _ hurt _ .

“It’s all been my choice. All of it.”, he muttered out blankly, his emerald eyes glassy as dark memories swirled in his mind, lifting his head to stare at the Commander, whose expression was twisted in concern and confusion.

“Herald? Are you alright? I..If my words offended you..”, Cullen stammered out quickly as he sighed at himself.

Offended? No, Fane wasn’t offended. He was  _ tired _ . Tired of living a life of pitiful lies that he himself had created. Slowly, he shook his head, snowy fine hair shifting with the movement as his emerald eyes dulled even more. He couldn’t continue like this. He needed to be alone.

“No, Cullen. It’s not that. I need to be alone. Please?”, he asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically small to his ears.

Cullen seemed to become even more concerned when Fane uttered his actual name before his face morphed into, what Fane guessed, was understanding. Odd.

“Of course. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll let Cassandra know we found you, if that’s alright?”, Cullen said to him carefully, never moving to try to comfort him which was another thing Fane found interesting despite his shocked state.

Fane merely nodded absentmindedly as he turned on his heel to walk down a dirt path. Alone. He needed to be alone. He barely gave the Commander a second glance as he stormed down the dirt path into the clearing just outside Haven, his boots kicking up clouds of dust. His mind was throbbing in pain from both his revelation and the tiredness that continued to weight down his entire body. Everything that has ever happened to him had been his choice. He chose it all! Father had simply been the enactor! His father may have pushed him into making the choice, but Fane had still chosen despite it all! Just like he had chosen to stay with this..this Inquisition! He could have ran! He could have left! But he  _ didn’t _ ! It was all a lie! A convenient lie! His weakened knees buckled as he fell to the snow covered ground, limply falling against the outcropping of a rock as his emerald eyes looked up into the twilight sky.

“I am the single rock that ripples the pond. I am the wooden debris that cracked in the storm. I am the silent step that moves mountains. The power of choice has always been mine. Always.. I’m just a pitiful fool who wishes for the shackles he says are already in place. I wish for someone to control me so that there may be order..”, he rambled to himself brokenly, the poetic words tumbling out desperately.

Fane growled brokenly as he covered his eyes with the palm of his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest as he melted into the cold stone at his back. A silent wisp against his ear made him shiver as the cold began to seep into his clothing before his body adjusted to the chilly temperatures. 

“You..order..claim..”, a whisper caressed his pointed ear quietly.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he slowly pulled his hands away from his eyes, feeling the sting from where the leather of his gloves had caught. There was that voice again. Well, it sounded like a voice, but it was so faint, so quiet. It almost made Fane’s ears hurt when he tried to focus on it.

“Who..?”, he questioned in the air, looking around slowly for signs of anyone in his area.

He was met with the simple sound of wind and emerging crickets as they revealed themselves as night drew near. His golden emerald eyes scanned the snow covered hills and deep dips as he looked for a possible source of a voice. Nothing. There was nothing.

“B..reach..order..”, another whisper sounded in his ear, making him wince as his head throbbed dully. 

Breach..? Is that what it had said? Fane’s eyes looked up to the Breach with a confused expression, his head throbbing as he tried to focus on the harsh green color that stained the sky, but the longer he gazed at it, he felt that same feeling as before when everything had been fire and chaos. It was pulling at his mind as if trying to draw him in and if he focused on that feeling long enough his vision would swim with vibrant color and clear skies. It all seeped into him so heavily that Fane had to close his eyes with a soft groan. What was all that..? It had been..beautiful, in a way.

“Do you..like it or something?”, he murmured in question to the whisper to see if it would respond.

He felt something pull at the edges of his mind, causing him a slight tingling discomfort as a wince left his lips. What the hell? Was there actually something in his mind?! Fane lifted a hand to rub at his temples, massaging them slowly. No, no, he didn’t need this on top of everything else that was running through his mind right now! 

“Choose.. Destiny.. Claim.. Bastion..”, the whisper echoed to him more loudly and clearly before a shiver wracked his body, the pulling on his mind disappearing instantly.

Fane blinked in shock as he was left with deafening silence once more, the only sound being the skittering of snow as the wind whipped it from its resting place. It was gone. Just like that. But what had it wanted? No, more importantly, what was it?

“Choose..? Destiny..? Ugh, I don’t understand!”, he cried into the air with irritation, rubbing at his forehead roughly.

He let out a tired, heavy sigh as he let his snowy head fall back against the rock, a puff of condensed air forming in front of him from his hot breath meeting frigid air. Tired green eyes watched as the moon began to rise from under the horizon. He always managed to find himself gazing at the sky at night. It was the only time he could think without rage consuming him. He would sometimes watch the sunset as well, but that gave him an entirely different feeling. A feeling of nostalgia and deep pain. Fane had never figured out why exactly watching the sun set invoked that in him, he just knew it did. Soon, his mind went back to thinking on the whispers that had sung in his ears as his eyes glinted against the rising moon.

“Choose..? Did it mean choice? Destiny.. And what did it mean by ‘bastion’? I hate riddles..”, he said to himself in exasperation, his eyes following the outlines of birds as they disappeared into their trees for the evening. 

Things like destiny and fate didn’t resonate with Fane. He was pragmatic and practical about the way of the world. Death came by nature’s grace, not by some inexorable flow. Life was born from the people that chose to create it, not by a divine touch. Pain, suffering, death, life..it was all intangible, but was only guided by the beings of this world, nothing more. Fane looked down at his duly flaring mark once more, his emerald eyes reflecting the same sickly green. Perhaps that voice was urging him to make a choice. A choice on how he would proceed from here with the revelation that he was not a victim nor a slave. He hummed thoughtfully as he examined the mark absently as it pulsated to his heartbeat. 

“A bastion.. A bastion for what? It had said ‘claim’ as well. Claim what, exactly?”, he murmured to himself with a furrowed brow, frowning deeply. 

Fane sighed in frustration. He truly couldn’t make heads or tails of what that voice had meant. He had always liked poetry and cryptic wording, but riddles? Riddles blew. Anyways, he had already had this conversation with himself. Right before he decided to stay with the Inquisition. He already knew what his choice was going to be. It had not changed. So, to say he had no choice from the start was a lie. He knew that. He supposed he had just wanted someone to blame. Someone to blame for the pain that he had worked so hard to bury as it began to resurface. Fane wrapped his arms around his legs as he buried his tattooed face into his lap. He needed to do something about this. He couldn’t continue to fight back at these people. It was taking everything out of him. No matter the distrust he felt towards them, they did not deserve his anger nor his scorn. 

_ Open yourselves to people, brother. You can find a family in the people around you, if you try. _

Fane recalled his sister’s words from the letter she had sent him. He carefully pulled out the locket that his sister had gifted him, staring at it longingly before clasping it in his hand. 

“A family.. How do I find a family in a sea of strangers..?”, he muttered with a sigh. 

Fane knew how, he just wasn’t sure if he could take that first step. It would have to start with a small step before anything. He tucked his sister’s handmade locket back into his coat as he rested his chin on his knees, gazing up at the rising moon. 

“I have to make a choice.”, he whispered tiredly as his eyes began to feel heavy, “I need to open up and let the pain out. Somehow, I need to understand the reasoning behind it. I’ll find it. Only then can I take that first step.”, he finished with a determined clip of his voice as his eyes fell shut.

As the drone of sleep wrapped him in a comforting blanket, Fane could barely make out the feeling of two hands on his slumped shoulders before the cool presence slipped away on the mountain air. Despite that fleeting touch being but a moment, it still left him feeling drowsy and heavy. 

_ “Let your footsteps etch themselves within the passage of time. Let the Fade rumble with their quakes. Let the immutable mountains shift and grow as you split them. For you are one of the last of your kind, and you will stand as a protector between them and the coming tide. Not for the beings that now dwell in this world, but for the ancients for which your blood belongs to. You will be  _ **_his_ ** _ bastion,  _ **_his_ ** _ immovable guard. It is the only choice that has even been made for you. All others rest in your will, child. _ ”. 

A whisper sounded, but as to what it said, Fane couldn’t say because his mind had blackened before the words had kissed his hearing. The words simply slipped away like a short dream, lost to him once more on the wind of snowy mountains and distant shores. 


	14. Chapter 13 - Shades of Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane attempts to let his walls down after Solas witnesses one of his episodes. The result was not what he had been expecting.

If anyone asked Fane how it felt to be a living statue, he would tell them it felt like you were literally a block of ice, cold and unfeeling as your joints refused to bend. That’s what his entire body felt like when he awoke the next morning in an unfamiliar cabin on an unfamiliar bedroll. He felt his face scrunch in a pained expression as the remnants of a nightmare lingered on the edges of his subconscious. His nostrils flared as he detected the scent of magic and herbs, the smell making his stomach churn in refusal. Fane tried to move his body to roll away from the burning smell, but found that he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he move? Why did it feel like he was frozen?! His golden, mossy eyes cracked open slightly as his consciousness slipped back to reality. Fane’s vision was incredibly blurry, but he could see the flicker of firelight as it casted a warm glow against the wooden walls of the cabin, shadows dancing along the edges. He was..inside? How did he get here? He remembered falling asleep outside in the cold.. His sleep addled mind couldn’t connect the dots as to where he was or how he had gotten to where he was. Fane was about to simply close his eyes to let sleep claim him once more as the chill that had seeped into his body started to dissolve from the warmth of the fire before he heard soft footsteps approach the spot where he was resting. A shaky gaze slowly rolled over to try to focus on the approaching figure, but Fane could only make out the shape of a person. 

“Herald..? Are you awake?”, he heard a voice ask him, but it was so distant to Fane’s fuzzy mind that he could barely make it out. 

Fane stared blankly from his cracked eyes before he saw a flash of ash brown hair, all the air in his lungs leaving him immediately as a hand slowly reached out to touch him. No. No, no, no! It couldn’t be! No! Fane’s eyes blew open with obvious terror as he suddenly sat up to scramble to the far wall, his breathing panicked as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“No, Father! Please! Get away!”, he shouted brokenly, feeling his body shake like a leaf.

He curled up in the corner as he bit down on his bottom lip to keep his voice quiet. No, he had screamed. He had screamed! He hadn’t meant to! Maybe if he apologized, Father would be forgiving! Yes, yes.. His mind couldn’t separate his memories from reality as he pleaded under his breath. He could smell the magic, the metal, the..the blood! It was so strong! So disgustingly strong!

“I..I’m sorry.. I’m sorry..”, he choked out shakily, his voice like a small child’s.

Cool hands placed themselves on his trembling shoulders as he continued to plead, not wanting to open his eyes and see his father’s own sickly moss ones glaring back at him. He couldn’t face that glare! Bad things happened when he saw that glare!

“Da’len. Still your mind. Breathe.”, the voice told him gently, the feeling of healing magic seeping into his bones.

Fane’s eyes shot open at the tingling of magic. He could feel it burning his scars as it worked into his skin! He could feel his stomach churning with the urge to vomit at the smell! 

“Stop! Stop! Please!”, he cried, trying to scramble further into the corner.

Golden emerald eyes met stormy blue as Fane’s vision finally focused after the terror induced his mind to reconnect to reality, but the memories had still lingered on the fringes of his mind enough to make him think he was back in his father’s aravel. He trembled uncontrollably as he stared wide eyed at the elf in front of him. The man in front of him wasn’t his father. It was Solas. 

“S..Solas..? What..?”, he shakily tried to ask, his hands shaking against his arms from where he was hugging himself.

Fane watched as Solas heaved a relieved sigh as slowly took his hands away from his shoulders, the magic fizzling out from his skin. 

“Yes. You remember.”, Solas said to him with a hint of a smile, but Fane could see a question in his stormy eyes.

Fane swallowed back the lump in his throat harshly as he shakily extracted himself from the corner he had been cowering in. This wasn’t the aravel. He was in Haven. He was with the Inquisition. Father wasn’t here. He was gone. Gone. He sighed heavily as his body slowly began to stop shaking, his breathing still coming down from his panicked gasps. Snowy hair was plastered to his temples as sweat beaded down from his hairline. Fane squeezed his eyes shut once to force back his nauseousness before opening them again to blink quickly. The entire time, he could feel Solas’s gaze boring holes into him, but the mage kept silent until he felt Fane was stable enough.

“Do you know where you are, Herald?”, he heard Solas ask him carefully.

Fane shifted his gaze to Solas’s face as his mind tried to focus on the question. His shoulders slumped as his breathing finally came back to a normal pace, and he managed to nod his head slowly.

“H..Haven.. Inquisition..”, he murmured out one word replies because his mind couldn’t formulate anything more coherent right now.

Solas wore a concerned expression as he reached out a hand to Fane. The younger elf simply stared blankly at the hand being offered to him as he tilted his head in question. A soft chuckle reached his ears as Solas instead pointed to his marked hand.

“May I see your hand?”, Solas asked gently as he watched Fane’s expression.

His hand..? Why did he want his hand? Fane furrowed his brow before raising his hand from where he had placed it on his lap, slowly holding it out to the elven mage. Solas gave him a thankful smile as he carefully cradled his hand in his own two. The elf’s expression deepened with a contemplative frown as he examined the mark on Fane’s hand. 

“Hurts..sometimes..”, Fane muttered out tiredly, his mind starting to defog more. 

Solas hummed in acknowledgement as he ghosted a few fingers along the slit that housed the sickly green magic. Fane watched tiredly as the mage examined his hand, too worn from his hysteria to really put up a fuss right now. Suddenly, the magic within the mark flared with a crack which had Fane gritting in teeth in suppressed pain. All his tiredness was forgotten as pain cracked like a whip up his arm. 

“Shit, shit!”, he hissed out, his hand jerking stiffly.

Solas’s brow furrowed deeply as he focused his magic into Fane’s mark, the calming aura slowly stamping out the pain as the mark went silent once more. Fane slumped back against the wall as the pain subsided, closing his eyes to try and calm his breathing once more. His pointed ears twitched as he heard Solas let out a sigh before he let go of Fane’s marked hand.

“How long has this been bothering you, Herald?”, Solas questioned him curtly.

Fane cracked his eyes open as his breathing began to slow down once more, detecting the hint of irritation in Solas’s voice as his vision focused on the stern expression of the elder elf. He lifted a hand to run it through his damp snow white hair as he rolled the question around his mind.

“How long has what been bothering me?”, he finally said, his voice beginning to come back to him.

Fane was having trouble focusing on what Solas was asking. He could still feel the pull of his memories within his head which was throbbing like a beat to a drum. It was insistent and nearly debilitating. As he rubbed his face with the hand that had been running through his hair, he heard Solas shift closer, taking his hand from his face to look at Fane with a stern look.

“The mark. Why did you not come to someone? Why did you choose to suffer alone?”, Solas told him simply, his hand wrapping around Fane’s wrist loosely. 

Fane furrowed his brow in confusion before feeling familiar irritation rise in his chest. Who did this elf think he was? Questioning him like he was a puzzle?! Demanding that he tell him everything! Did the ass not understand the double meaning of his words?! Fane had promised himself to make an effort now, but he wasn’t going to spill out his heart to everyone who asked! Not until he understood the pain he had endured for five fucking years! With a rough tug, Fane pulled his wrist from Solas’s grasp, leveling the mage with a heated glare.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ act as if you have the right to ask that. You know  _ nothing _ about my suffering.”, he growled out angrily.

Solas blinked slowly at his anger before a small smile danced on the elf’s lips. Fane felt confusion mix with his anger as his snowy brows furrowed deeply. Why was he smiling? What was with these people and smiling at his anger?! 

“It would seem that snapped you back completely. Good.”, Solas said as his smile grew proud. 

Fane blinked quickly a few times before he snarled loudly. Had this ass seriously taunted him with the one thing Fane knew could rattle him?! His arm swung back to clock the smiling elf in the face before a wave of nausea washed over him, making his whole body double over as the hand that was about to deliver the punch clapped over his mouth. 

“Herald?”, Solas called to him with concern, all hints of pride gone.

Fane felt cool hands laced with magic rest on his shoulders before he shook his head violently, feeling the bile rise quickly at the smell of ozone and rain.

“D..Don’t..the..magic..”, he choked out around his hand, his body jerking as the vomit threatened to spill out around his fingers. 

He weakly looked up at the elder elf to give him a pleading look with his golden flecked eyes as his body jerked again, making him turn his head down once more. He felt Solas’s hands immediately leave his shoulders as the mage rose from his place on the ground. Where was he going? Maybe he didn’t want Fane to puke on him? That was the most likely reason. What surprised him however was the dull thud of a bucket being set down next to him as Solas repositioned himself next to the now sweating elf. 

“Here. Use this.”, Solas told him calmly.

Fane didn’t have time to question why the man had done what he did because the next thing Fane knew was his hands violently pulling the bucket towards him to empty the contents of his stomach into it. He coughed wetly as bile continued to rise unrelentingly, his body shaking once again with the effort to keep himself from falling into his own secretions. Solas merely sat next to him as he very carefully pushed Fane’s hair from his sweaty face. Another violent spasm wracked his body as he continued to puke into the bucket. Out of everything his nightmares invoked when he awoke in the morning, this part was Fane’s absolute least favorite. He hated all of what happened, honestly. But the retching was the worst, by far. When his body had finally decided it could no longer release anything more, Fane rested his sweat drenched forehead against the edge of the wooden bucket as he panted harshly. 

“F..Finally..”, he stuttered out around gasps for air. 

Dull emerald eyes glanced up to see Solas looking down at him with deep concern, his hand having stilled from where it was apparently stroking his hair. Fane sighed as he let his head hang limply, shaking it slowly. It seemed he would hide nothing from this man at this rate. Solas had already seen glimpses of his memories, but that had practically been nothing. Now though, the elder elf had seen the  _ effects _ of those memories. It would be hard for Fane to deflect his questions now. The episode of hysteria when he first awoke probably hadn’t helped matters either, now that he thought about it. 

“This happens often, then?”, Solas asked him quietly, his hand gingerly resting on the top of Fane’s snowy head. 

Fane didn’t want to do this now. Not when he felt like this. However, it would only continue to be a point of tension between the two elves if he didn’t say something. He didn’t have to tell Solas everything, right? Just enough to curb the nosy elf’s curiosity for the time being. After all, they barely knew each other. Though, he still felt that feeling of familiarity with Solas. It almost made Fane  _ want _ to tell him everything. But, no. That would, perhaps, come in time. When he knew he could trust the mysterious elven mage. With a heavy sigh, Fane slowly nodded to Solas’s question.

“Almost every morning.”, he said weakly, wiping his hand with the back of his mouth which he just noticed was only wrapped in his leather wrappings instead of his gloves.

He felt Solas’s hand on his head still at the answer before he felt slender fingers delicately thread into the strands. Fane felt he should have been angry at the bold touch, but he instead felt a yearning for it. Solas’s hands were cool against his aching head. It helped dull the relentless throb coursing through it. So, Fane slightly leaned into the touch with a grimace. He heard Solas chuckle quietly before he went silent once more, gingerly working his fingers into Fane’s hair.

“Do you have a thought as to why?”, Solas asked him carefully, obviously knowing he was treading delicate ground.

Fane heaved another sigh as he pushed himself to sit up straight, looking at Solas with tired emerald eyes as the gold within them flickered gently from the fire. Solas quickly took his hand away as he seemed to remember himself, but gave him a faint smile in apology. Fane shook his snowy head slowly before leaning back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the markings of the wood as it branched along the slats. 

“The smell and feel of magic makes me sick. And I don’t mean in a way like most people feel. I mean it makes me _physically_ ill. ”, he stated simply, his eyes flitting along wooden pathways, “I’ve been that way for five years now. So, it’s not just the mark that causes it.”, he finished quietly as he grimaced.

He felt Solas shift over to sit beside him, leaving enough space between the two of them so Fane didn’t feel cornered. He caught Solas looking up at the ceiling like Fane was from the corner of his eye. The look of confusion on the elf’s face as he tried to find what was so fascinating about the wood made Fane’s lips twist into a ghost of a smile before it disappeared completely. 

“I had a feeling that was the case. I did see fragments of pain and fear when I was holding your hand, but they were vague. I could not make them out enough to understand. At first, I simply thought it  _ was _ hatred since you seemed to reject any form of magic being around you. However, the more I observed during the first attempt to seal the Breach, the more I saw that it  _ was _ physically affecting you. Your shoulders would tense, your eyes would become glassy, and your entire mood shifted on an axis. Your words towards Cassandra also made me think it was something deeper. You became nearly hysterical at the implications that it was a test of sorts. It was unlike anything I had ever seen with people who are sensitive to magic. Most simply feel uneasy or disturbed, but you had responded  _ violently _ . Like your body was being shifted into..a routine of sorts. ”, Solas rambled quietly as his eyes searched the wood for what Fane was seeing. 

Fane frowned more as he slowly closed his eyes. Wow, he must truly be this transparent if Solas detected that much from him at their first meeting. He supposed he hadn’t tried to hide his reactions during all the chaos since his mind had been in a state of terrifying shock from those deeply buried memories that he had thought he’d left behind. Said Memories swarmed behind his eyelids now as he wrapped his arms around his leather bound legs gently. He opened his eyes once more when the visions of blood splattered against wood and mossy green eyes became too much.

“I see.”, he muttered quietly, squeezing his legs softly, “It’s..a long story. I don’t wish to talk about it. I’ve already shared more than I ever have. So, please..can you stop?”, he finished with a short clip to his voice, his irritation rising from the memories that were poking at the fringes of his mind.

He felt Solas’s gaze turn to him as Fane continued to trace patterns in the wood with his somber gaze. He didn’t want to look directly at the elf because he was afraid of what he would see in those storm colored eyes. Anger? Disapproval? Disbelief? He didn’t want to see anymore of that from anyone. So, he’ll just lazily trace out patterns of small ornaments that he could make from the wood above him.

“I can. I understand the pain of a past you cannot change.”, he heard Solas mutter out with a hint of pain lacing his lilting voice.

Fane blinked as his eyes stilled its path along the wood. Solas..understood? He wasn’t upset that Fane didn’t have any clear answers to his questions? Fane turned his head to look at the elf next to him and was surprised when he saw a very faint, but perceptible smile on Solas’s face. Solas gave him a gingerly pat on the shoulder as he gracefully stood from his position next to Fane. 

“Your memories are your own. I have no right to ask you to share them. That is for you to decide. We are alike in that regard. We cherish our memories, good or ill.”, Solas said to him as he carefully took the bucket that Fane had vomited into, likely to empty it.

Fane crossed his ankles over each other from where his legs were still bunched up to his chest, his eyes narrowing at the ground in thought at Solas’s words. How did the two of them have anything in common? Solas was calm, calculating, and composed. The elder elf didn’t seem to let anything phase him, at least not from what Fane could see. However.. Gold flashed within emerald eyes as Fane drew his gaze up from the floor to look at the elven mage once more. He watched as Solas returned from outside, presumably from getting rid of the contents of his stomach, the tall elf shaking off the effects of the cold slightly before his stormy eyes became lost in thought. 

“ _ He sure does think a lot. But..I can see a deep, lingering regret in his eyes.. _ ”, Fane thought to himself absently as he rested his chin against the tops of his bent knees as he continued to watch the mage move around the cabin. 

From the moment Fane acknowledged the elder elf, he had noticed Solas was always wearing an expression of deep thought, as if he was trying to work out a complex problem. However, Fane could only guess what those problems could be. Though, there was a sense of agony behind those contemplative steel blue eyes. He wasn’t even sure Solas knew he displayed it at times.

“ _ He said he understood the pain.. What has he endured, I wonder..?”,  _ he thought to himself once more, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

Fane shook his head minutely as he heaved a soft sigh. This was wholly unlike him to be so concerned about the problems of others. While it was true that Fane had an odd knack of sensing people’s emotions, he always made it a point to turn a blind eye to them unless said emotions concerned him or his sister. But now, he couldn’t help but continue to feel curious about the handful of people he met. It was true that most of them infuriated him to no end thus far, but maybe that was normal? Maybe that was the first step he would have to take towards understanding his place amid strangers who knew this particular battleground more than he did. The clinking of a glass bottle in front of his face had Fane startling from his thoughts as his green orbs widened. 

“Huh?”, he said dumbly, staring blankly at Solas who was crouched down in front of him with an amused smile. 

Solas merely chuckled at his eloquent display before motioning the glass vial towards him. The contents contained an odd fluorescent purple color, and the scent made Fane want to cover his nose with how bitter it smelled. Fane’s face turned down into a grimace instead which only seemed to amuse Solas more before he placed the vial in Fane’s limp hand.

“This will help with the mark. If it should flare up again, this will help calm it.”, Solas explained to him plainly.

Fane rolled the vial around in his leather bound hand with a raised eyebrow, his face still turned down in a grimace. So, Solas’s plan was to just give him more magic to combat magic? What? The young elf looked up with a wary glare as his grimace deepened.

“Is there magic in it?”, he asked warily, his brow set into an almost permanent furrow.

Solas actually laughed quietly at his inquiry as he shook his head slowly. The sound was somewhat strained, as if the elf hadn’t laughed in quite some time, but Fane found it..nostalgic, all the same. What was it and this constant feeling of familiarity? The Breach, the mark, and now, Solas.. Ugh, it was frustrating! He felt as if he was missing a large gap in his memory! Fane felt his eyebrows scrunch together even more as he continued to glare at the elven mage, feeling agitation at his own thoughts and the elder elf’s humored laughter. Honestly, he had thought it was a valid question. Especially after the episode Solas had just seen him have. Solas’s laughter died down into silent chuckles that made his shoulders tremor softly, looking at the wary elf with an amused glint in his stormy eyes.

“There is no magic in it. It is just simple alchemy. It is a potion that is very effective at negating magic. Not as effective as a Templar’s abilities, but the principle is the same. It should also help with the nausea that you feel during those flare ups.”, Solas told him with a tiny smile, pushing himself up to stand to his full height.

Fane blinked up at the elven man dumbly, stunned into silence. Another chuckle slipped from Solas’s lips as he turned to rearrange the table he had evidently used to create the potion he had given Fane. The younger elf’s gaze slipped down to the purple viscous liquid as he watched it ebb around the curves of glass that it was contained in. His grimace turned into a confused scowl as he watched the purple hue shift to a lavender as the firelight illuminated it. This was..perplexing. Fane wasn’t used to being cared for, not even with a simple potion. When he was younger, his father had simply patched him up enough with healing magic so that he didn’t bleed out completely. The deluded fool had never once taken into consideration what that magic did to him. The fear it had invoked. The pain it caused. The sickening feeling it had created. Not once had that man shown an ounce of compassion. But Solas.. Solas was actively trying to mitigate his pain, even if it was just a tiny bit. It left Fane feeling..warm. A delicate look filled his emerald eyes as he grasped the vial gently, closing his fingers around the glass. Fane felt  _ wanted _ . Part of him felt as if this was just another display of someone simply helping him because he was needed for what he had. But another part was shouting ‘no’, that that wasn’t what this was. This was  _ genuine _ concern. This was true. This was  _ real _ . Fane clenched his jaw as a wave of powerful emotion washed over him, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he clutched the vial close to his chest. What was going on with this these days to feel such emotion from a simple potion from a stranger? He truly was such a fool..

“Ma serannas. Ma serannas..”, he whispered repeatedly in a small voice, the sound barely recognizable to his own pointed ears.

He heard Solas’s rearranging still as his voice came out before he heard a sad, but amused sigh come from the elder elf. The sound made Fane nearly want to whimper with years of suppressed grief. 

“You are welcome.”, Solas responded to his whisper gently as he resumed his task on the table.

Fane felt his body tighten as soft, silent sobs wracked his body, pulling his bent legs up to his chest more tightly as tears began to slip down his freckled cheeks. This was truly ridiculous. He was crying over an act of kindness! How much more pathetic could he get? As the sobs continued to quietly course through his body, Fane thought, at that moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he looked pathetic. He didn’t care if he was seen as weak. He didn’t care if all he saw was fear in people’s eyes as he merely walked past them. All he cared about was the vision of lavender as it swam behind his tightly closed eyelids as tears silently poured down his face. Seas of lavender caressed his eyes and meadows of childhood flowers tickled his nose, as years of suppressed anguish finally began to bash against the sturdy dam that had sealed his heart in darkness and loneliness. The walls would not break today, tomorrow, or even weeks, but they would break. One brick at a time.


	15. Chapter 14 - An Echoing Silence of a Dead World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon arriving in Val Royeaux, Fane has a startling incident that has him shaken to his core. But he's not the only one to be shaken it seemed..

Fane had to admit Val Royeaux was..interesting. Was that the word he was thinking of as he studied the glittering waters surrounding the city of gold and white? Perhaps. If anything, the brightness was making Fane’s eyes hurt. How could one small bazaar be so colorful, but yet so..nondescript? It was if the place was _trying_ to draw attention, but couldn’t. He saw the crimson reds and sky blues, but they looked washed out. He saw the shimmering silks over head as the wind ruffled them, but they lacked true depth. He saw gold topped spires and archways, but they barely gave off a luster. In short, the whole place did not appeal to him. It was merely another destination, another nest of humans, and another place to deny his ‘divinity’ to the Chantry, but Fane knew they would only hear the words of a ‘heretic’. These zealots were as bland as this ‘great’ city. 

“This is pretty disappointing.”, Fane grumbled out as he continued to look around at the marble and stone, his leather boots echoing softly as they met the ground. 

Fane walked slightly ahead of their small group as he, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric entered the ‘jewel’ that was Val Royeaux. After Fane begrudgingly made the choice to try and cooperate with the Inquisition, the group had set out to garner the help of a Chantry mother that supposedly didn’t agree with how the Chantry was handling this particular situation. Obviously, Fane had had his doubts that that was actually the case, but as with most things, he was proven wrong. Mother Giselle had actually been a reasonable human, which was a lot coming from Fane, since she had promised to do whatever she could to help them. The mother had lost some points with Fane when he heard the term ‘Herald’ come from her, but the elf merely did what he had chosen to do from now on; deny and deflect. Thankfully, his distaste waned when Josephine had announced that, with the mother’s help, they could finally approach the Chantry. Great. Perfect. Finally he was getting somewhere. That’s what Fane had thought anyways until Cassandra had declared that they would be coming to the Grand Clerics _directly_ . Fane hadn’t even tried to hide his disgust and anger that time. Then again, when did he ever? And after yet _another_ circular argument with the Seeker, Fane had finally surrendered to the suggestion. And voila! Here he was as he trudged into a den of lions! Great strategy! How he loved walking into obvious danger! What an absolute joke. 

As Fane slowed his pace towards the gates, his emerald eyes narrowed towards the opulent gold that capped stone railways and sparkling white marble as the pools of water shimmered off of them. This place was so..dull. Why did everything seem to wash away the more he looked at it?

“Is this place just all stone and metal? Not how I really pictured Orlais, to be frank.”, Fane said as his brows furrowed in confusion, not realizing he had spoken out loud. 

Pointed ears twitched as he heard Varric sputter in disbelief before letting out a barking laugh. Oh. Had he been speaking out loud? Great.

“I like you more and more every day, Tempest! It is a bit much, huh?”, Varric said as he clapped Fane on the back harshly.

Fane growled as he jerked forward, caught off guard for once. He felt the buzzing of his scars as they hummed with pain at Varric’s gesture. Wonderful. Now he could face snapping clerics while in _pain_! His lifelong dream! He was really not in the mood today. It seemed he was beginning to go insane if his sarcastic thoughts were anything to go by, or maybe he’s always been this way. Wouldn’t surprise him, really. 

“One, don’t touch me, dwarf. And two-”, Fane started as he glared down at the smiling dwarf, who was unphased by piercing emerald, “it’s not ‘a bit much’. It’s bland. Dull.”, he finished as he gestured around him lazily. 

Fane saw nothing of what his sister would regale him with when she would read from one of her books about human cities. He saw no glittering towers or singing pathways adorned with giant flowers. He saw extravagance and expediency. Nothing more. He could barely make out the colors of the doors and windows that aligned the upper walkways. Everything was just so..muted. Silent. It was deafening. The agitated elf watched as Varric gave him a confused look with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s..dull? Like literally? You’re joking, right?!”, Varric exclaimed around a breathy laugh as Cassandra snorted in disgust beside him, apparently uncomfortable in this place as much as Fane was. 

Fane raised a snowy eyebrow as he finally looked down at Varric fully, his expression hard. Why was the dwarf acting so incredulous? Didn’t he see how voided this place was? It was like a grey slate of granite! Blase and basic. It was truly maddening just _how_ devoid of color and sound this place was.

“Um..no?”, Fane responded as he crossed his arms across his chest, utterly confused with this line of questioning. 

Varric’s mouth gaped at his response before looking around frantically for something. Great. What was this weird ass dwarf going to subject him to now? Over the last week, Varric had made it a point to try to rope Fane into conversing with him. And every time, Fane would begrudgingly accept, but not after pointedly refusing several times. Mainly, he was confused by the dwarf’s interest in befriending him, but all the answers Fane would get when he asked Varric was a shrug of stocky shoulders and a smile. 

“ _You remind me of someone I know. It’s uncanny how alike the two of you are!”,_ Varric had said to him one day when Fane had practically begged in exasperation as to why the dwarf kept bothering him. 

That had utterly dumbfounded the elf. He truly reminded Varric of someone he knew? Like someone who was a friend? The dwarf hadn’t gone into any more detail, but Fane sensed from his words alone that this person was someone he was close with. It certainly made Fane curious.. But, maybe that’s what Varric was going for? Pique his curiosity so the elf would seek him out? That was downright deceptive, if true. However, Fane had heard dwarves were a cunning type of people. He’d only ever briefly interact with them when he would go to human markets for trading, but those short bartering conversations had shown Fane that dwarves were indeed very shrewd.

 _“And money hungry._ ”, he thought idly with a faint roll of his emerald eyes. 

Fane couldn’t count how many times he had almost been swindled by a merchant dwarf when he’d be trying to trade furs. Honestly, he never understood why the Keeper had sent him on those errands to begin with. He was _not_ a people person.

“ _Nor will I ever be, I suspect.”,_ he thought once more with a grimace before shaking his head of those depressive thoughts, “ _Anyways..”_ , turning his head to see Varric striding back to him with a large grin. 

What Fane saw in the dwarf’s large hands was a..flower? Why the hell did he have a flower? He was truly losing it, wasn’t he? Maybe his mark was affecting his brain? He should probably ask Solas about that. With a raise of a snowy eyebrow, Fane shifted his weight to one leg as he stared down at the large flower.

“What the fuck is that for, dwarf?”, Fane said crudely, bemused by Varric’s game. 

His ears twitched slightly as he heard Solas, who had been oddly quiet for most of the journey here, let out a sound akin to surprise. Had the mage never heard a curse before? Or had that been a snort? Like a laugh? Ugh, he didn’t know! This was like a fever dream to him now! Fane pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he leveled the dwarf with an irritated glare. Varric merely grinned with amusement as he showcased the flower to Fane.

“Behold! A perfect specimen of botany!”, the dwarf started dramatically, Cassandra groaning audibly with disgust which did nothing to deter Varric, “Tell me, Tempest! What color is it?”, Varric finished with a flourish, shoving the flower closer to his face. 

What..color was the flower? Was that a serious question? Surely not. Yup. This is a fever dream and he’ll wake up any minute to puke his guts up onto his cabin floor. Fane stared blankly at the flower before flicking it from the dwarf’s hand. Varric gasped in mock disgust before picking the flower back up with a grin. 

“Come on, Tempest! Easy question!”, Varric tried again as he kept the flower closer to himself this time, so Fane couldn’t knock it away. 

This dwarf really wasn’t going to give up, was he? No, he wasn’t, if the sparkling of mirth that filled amber eyes was anything to go by. Fane growled with frustration as he covered his eyes with one hand, massaging his temples slowly with his thumb and forefinger. 

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we.. Fine.”, Fane said with a defeated sigh before glancing up over his hand to look hard at the flower.

As his golden emerald eyes focused on the flower, Fane saw it was..white? No..blue? It looked like a lily and lilies were usually white, right? Or were they yellow? Pink? Why was this so difficult all of a sudden? Usually, if he was in the woods or a field, Fane could make out the colors of every tree, every flower, every animal. But here..it was like the silence that permeated these stones were seeping into his perception of color. Odd.

“It’s..uh..hm.”, he hummed as his face deepened into a troubled frown, his hand slowly lowering from his eyes. 

Fane continued to stare hard at the flower, as if that would bring its color forth at any moment in a splash. But the longer he stared, the more diluted it seemed to get, to the point where all he could discern was muted grey. Creators, his head was killing him, too. This place was just so.. _bright_ . But it was so _silent_ as well. It made no sense!

“It’s..”, he tried again, gripping his arms with mounting agitation, “..red? Blue?”, he finished, attempting some kind of answer.

Varric’s dumbfounded expression had him suddenly wanting to punch the dwarf and hiding away from the world all at once. It would seem he didn’t get that right. Lovely. 

“You weren’t kidding, huh? Are you color blind, Tempest?”, Varric said with a teasing smile, but Fane could see something akin to..concern in the dwarf’s amber eyes. 

Fane furrowed his brows at the question. He wasn’t color blind. If anything, he was color _sensitive_ . Some colors would appear so bright that his eyes would nearly water from the intensity. Even in the darkness of night, Fane could spot tiny flecks of unimaginable colors as crickets chirped and midnight insects glowed. It was just this _place_ that was suddenly muting everything for him. Why? Why was that? 

“No. I’m not.”, he said flatly, feeling disturbed by the sudden feelings of weightlessness that threatened to envelope him. 

Varric’s look of concern deepened as he saw Fane’s expression darkened with a weight the dwarf couldn’t even begin to understand. With a flick, Fane watched as Varric threw the flower into the reflective pool that encircled the entire city, the delicate thing drifting down to rest just on the water’s still surface. It made no sound as it fluttered down. Not even a soft _plip_ reached his ears as the bloom connected with shimmering water. Why was it so _silent_?! 

“Didn’t mean to upset you, Tempest. We should probably get moving, huh?”, Varric said, trying to lighten the mood with his smile.

Fane merely nodded once before jerking his head to tell the dwarf to go. He could feel his anger rising from the whole scenario, and the revelation that it brought with it. He just wanted the dwarf to _go._ He wanted this whole _deafening_ place to _go_. Fane looked back down over the railing at the colorless flower as it drifted along the current gently, barely hearing Cassandra address Varric as the dwarf caught up to her.

“You are an idiot, dwarf.”, Cassandra spat out with an air of disapproval surrounding her.

“Hey! I didn’t know! I thought he was joking around!”, Varric tried to defend himself.

“Not everyone is like _you_ , Varric.”, the Seeker spat out once more in response. 

Fane couldn’t even feel insulted by the Seeker’s statement as he gazed down at the drifting flower, feeling an ache form in his chest. Why couldn’t he see its color? Why was this whole place so grey? Why was nothing..nothing _singing_ ?! The last thing he needed was his whole physical world to be as dead as his soul! Even his dreams, when he had pleasant ones, were muted and silent! The only things that were perceptible were his nightmares and pain. Those felt _real_ . They _were_ real. But this..this did not feel _real._ It felt _wrong_! Misplaced!

“ _Little lily, whisper to me. Little lily, brighten for me. Let your colors reign free for me to see.”,_ Fane pleaded quietly in elvish, the longing for color to fill his vision increasing.

A cool hand resting itself on Fane’s shoulder had him startling so violently, he nearly fell over the edge of the railing as he spun around to face the curious, but concerned expression of Solas. Fane blinked quickly as he gripped the stone tightly. He hadn’t even heard the elven mage come up to him! Was everything destined to be silent in this blighted place?! The startled elf felt Solas’s hand slowly retreat as Fane saw the silent apology in the apostate’s eyes. 

“Apologies, Herald. It is merely that you are..disoriented. Disconnected, really..”, Solas explained carefully, an odd look swirling in his steely eyes. 

Fane slowly relaxed as his shock at being startled began to wear off, his vice like grip around the stone railing loosening. But..he seemed disconnected? It was true that he was feeling odd, but was that what it was? Detachment? He did feel as if the world was..floating. Ugh, he was going to be sick if he focused on that for much longer. Fane closed his eyes as he felt his head throb uncomfortably, his stomach flipping as the world seemed to shift silently. 

“Solas..do you..”, Fane started, cracking his eyes open slightly to gaze up at the elven mage unsteadily, barely perceiving the color of his eyes that were filled with curious worry, “ _Can_ you..hear anything? This place..it’s so quiet. It’s filled with color, but no _sound_ to bring them forward.”, he stuttered out as his nausea increased, the ground feeling unstable under his feet.

At his question, Solas’s eyes widened with mild shock before the apostate quickly schooled his features, concealing his surprise deftly. Fane felt a curious feeling of interest at that reaction, his snowy eyebrow raising slightly in question. Did he say something wrong? He was a little puzzled as to why he was asking the elven mage this anyways, as if Solas could somehow understand. However, ever since the incident in Solas’s cabin, Fane had felt..more comfortable with the elder elf. He felt as if he could be _open_ with someone, even if it was something stupid like this. Maybe he was just overwhelmed? This city, with its large structures and expansive reach, was unlike anything he had ever visited. Val Royeaux was gigantic compared to the ramshackle villages he would travel to when with his clan. Perhaps he was simply oversensitized from the amount of color that it was making it seem muted? Yes, that made sense. Right? Right..

Just as Fane was about to nod in agreement with his thoughts, he saw Solas give a tiny shake of his head. Fane blinked slowly at that as he pushed himself off of the railing carefully to stand up straight. He had seen that, right? Solas had shook his head! He had to have! He was deaf to most things, but not blind! 

“You mean..it’s silent for you, too?”, Fane asked again, his voice bordering along the lines of relief and minor fear. 

This time, Solas did not respond. No shake of his head or even a small nod. The elven mage simply moved past him to follow after Varric and Cassandra with a sort of somber air. 

“We should follow before the Seeker becomes impatient, Herald.”, Solas told him flatly, his expression hard and devoid of any emotion. 

Fane watched with a minor shocked expression as Solas slowly walked away. Had he just..ignored him? Brushed him off like he was a delusional _child_ ?! He was _not_ a child playing a little game! He truly could not hear a single sound in this forsaken city! And he swore Solas had agreed with his observation! With a furious grab, Fane yanked Solas to face him once more.

“Don’t _ignore_ me! I saw you shake your head! I saw-?!”, Fane started to accuse angrily before he saw the deep, but subdued pain in Solas’s steely blue eyes, the mage’s expression dark, but calm. 

He saw such agony in those deep blue eyes. A pain that ran so deep that Fane himself could feel its piercing effects. It was so keen, so _real_ , that Fane could detect the splash of color in the mage’s hard gaze. The stormy blue was so..sorrowful, like glass that had been shattered in a million fragments. The hints of deeper blue that lined the outside of his iris were so hard, like stone. The light specks of indigo that stretched to a black pupil glimmered with _guilt_ . It was the first time since arriving that Fane wished he could wash the color _away_. 

“ _What..? They look..like my eyes when I gaze in the mirror.. Such pain. Such_ ** _agony_** **.** _Such..shame and guilt.. Why? Why did you do it..? Why do your two tone eyes cry behind a silent mask?”,_ Fane thought as his mouth gaped open slightly, all previous anger from before lost to his shock. 

It wasn’t until he saw a brief flash of horror cross the elven apostate’s face did Fane realize he had spoken out loud. Shit.

“...Again, we should follow.”, Solas said bluntly, his features carefully hardening into a cemented mask of stoicism once more as he gingerly pulled his arm from Fane’s now loose grasp.

Fane’s chest constricted with an odd feeling of dread and guilt as he watched Solas’s retreating form, the mage hurriedly striding down the marble bridge. His gloved hand fell limply to his side as Fane’s vision became unfocused and hazy. What had just happened? What was that horrible feeling of anguish as he stared into the depths of Solas’s soul? And why had he asked, ‘Why did you do it?’? Why did the mage do _what_? 

Fane ran a rough hand through his snow white hair, mussing it up further in his frustration. He could feel a piercing wave of pain coursing through his head, the ache from before having intensified as his mind tried to make sense of everything happening. 

“This is ridiculous..”, he muttered to himself lowly, releasing his hair from his rough treatment.

Just when he thought he’d managed to build some type of ‘normal’ relationship with someone, he had to blurt out something like _that_! Delusional nonsense that made him seem truly unhinged! But that pain had been so deep, so real, so..

 _“Familiar..”,_ Fane finished his thought as he rubbed at his face with a leather gloved hand. 

He had said it reminded him of his own gaze, but that wasn’t what he meant, entirely. No, he meant he has _seen_ that look before. Fane _had_ seen that agony, that anguish, on _Solas_ before. That couldn’t be, though. He had never met the elven mage in his life before the Breach. So why..? 

Another fierce throb had Fane letting out a quiet wince as he squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently, his mind did not like his train of thought at the moment. These headaches were becoming truly troublesome now. Anytime Fane tried to grab a hold of a feeling of familiarity or reach out to a blurry vision, his head would _pound_ in protest. Almost as if it was trying to bring the truth forward, but could not. He had had these strange moments before, back with the clan, but never this insistent or intense. Back then, it had only been minor aches and occasional stabs of pain in his temple. Honestly, before this, he had chocked it up to a lack of sleep and an unhealthy diet, but now he was wondering if these headaches were something more..profound. Something like a..a key? Truthfully, Fane didn’t know. He also didn’t know if he wanted to find out. However, he had to figure out _something_ to curb these pains in his head, or he would be useless when it finally came to a real fight. He rubbed his face with one hand, exasperated and frustrated with himself, the leather scraping against his pale face which caused it to itch with discomfort until he heard a familiar human voice call for him.

“Herald! Come, we don’t have to time for sightseeing!”, Cassandra called for him, her face stern and hard, but Fane could tell it was more in anticipation for what was to come than what he was doing.

Fane let his hand drop to his side once more as he slowly began to trudge towards the impatient Seeker, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He would have to figure these thoughts out later. Right now, he was _needed_. If that was even the proper term. 

“As if I would stop to smell the roses in this blighted hellhole.”, he called back with a clipped tone, hardening his face into an irritated mask. 

He watched as the Seeker snorted with something akin to agreement before she turned her back to speak with an Inquisition scout that was hidden away in an alcove. Well, at least the two of them finally agreed on _something_ even if it were not for the same reasons. It was a step, he supposed. As Fane rejoined the party, he could feel a familiar burning gaze piercing the side of his face as he stood next to Solas and Varric with his arms firmly crossed. 

“ _He’s staring at me again.”_ , Fane thought with minor agitation as he had come to know Solas’s knowing gaze. 

However, he supposed the mage had every right to question him after what Fane had said. The prickly elf was even questioning himself about the nature of his observations. 

“ _Why did you do it..? What kind of question had that been..?”,_ he thought with a small grimace, gripping his coated arms softly.

A soft nudge of an elbow against the spot directly below his ribs had him breaking from his ruminations with a loud growl, whipping his head down to glare furiously at the dwarf who had been the source.

“Didn’t I say _not_ to touch me, dwarf?!”, Fane snarled lowly, like a dog that was being cornered. 

Varric blinked at his reaction as the dwarf rose his hands in an offering of peace, smiling goodnaturedly.

“Easy, Tempest! I forgot, I forgot!”, the dwarf defended himself before giving Fane a worried look, “Anyways, you doing okay? You seem a little..off.”, Varric finished as he motioned to Fane’s stiff posture.

Fane merely shrugged his now aching shoulders since the dwarf’s little nudge had stirred up his sensitive nerves, his scars singing out in echoes of dark pain. He seemed off, huh? That was one way to put it. If not being to hear a single sound or see a single color was considered ‘off’. And if the elven mage who was currently staring at you like you were the most interesting thing on the planet was considered the same as well. Then yes, he was most certainly ‘off’! 

“I’m fine. I just want to finish this and get out of here before my mind cracks like a glass mirror.”, he growled out deeply, turning his gaze away from Varric to stare down the empty walkway that led into the main marketplace, the walls lined with alcoves that were filled with beautifully made _grey_ sculptures of the human’s religious icons.

He was truly getting sick of the color grey. Black would have been better than that. Fane could feel Varric staring at him now, which was furthering souring his already shitty mood. What was with these creatures and staring?! 

“Just drop it, Varric. You won’t get an answer no matter how long you stare.”, he glanced at Varric who jumped when he realized Fane had known he was looking at him, “And you too, Solas. If you have something to say, then speak. But again, I have no answers for you.”, he addressed the elven mage, glancing up and over to level Solas with a heated glare, the mage barely flinched as he continued to stare calmly at the angry elf.

Fane scoffed in disgust as he shifted his weight to one leg, his sword attached to his hip suddenly feeling too heavy. That was right. He had _no_ answers. No answers as to why he continued to endure this. No answers why he felt these feelings of nostalgia and familiarity every time he looked to the sky and the land around him. No answers as to why he had easily zeroed in on Solas’s hidden pain. No answers as to why he saw not a smidge of color that wasn’t washed out as silence surrounded him. And no answers as to why he _yearned_ for it all. Yearning for an end to the pain. Yearning for truth to this familiarity. Yearning for an explanation as to the elder elf’s deep pain. Yearning for a _song_ from this silent place! 

The snowy haired elf turned his golden emerald gaze from Solas, who was still _staring_ at him like a complex riddle, and turned his eyes towards the sky. As Fane gazed into the sky, he could only see shimmers of muted blue and white as the clouds streaked the open expanse. He felt the corners of his mouth downturn into an almost broken frown as his eyes narrowed with anger and sorrow.

And if Solas was reflecting the same type of deep sorrow in his own two toned blue and grey eyes, Fane wouldn’t have noticed this time. As he gazed up into the mute sky with a forlorn expression, his vallaslin stretched downwards as the vines acted as if they were wilting away as he was, Fane knew in his heart that something was wrong. Something was _gone_. And it wasn’t the color and it wasn’t the sound. It was something he could not describe as his head pounded in the back of his mind and his eyes continued to blur muted colors into gradients of black, white, and grey. His pointed ears only heard the distance voices of his companions and the shifting of uncomfortable armor. He heard no music, no footsteps, no wind as it still brushed the tips of his hair against his freckled cheeks. He saw no gold capped towers, crimson red doors, white marble walkways, or vibrant exotic flowers. He saw only greyness and pain. He heard only silence and sorrow. And Fane wondered silently to himself as golden emerald tried to once again focus on steel blue as the forlorn elf drew his gaze to Solas’s own masked one. This time, Fane did not hide the anguish in his own gaze as his eyes silently pleaded with the elder.

“Where is the color? This is..not their world..”, he whispered to the other elf brokenly, his head and heart pounding with a pain of two kinds as he couldn’t understand what he was asking for.

Solas’s mask cracked by a mere fraction as a small, but painful frown donned his lips, the two toned blue and grey eyes giving away silently with a wonder and sorrow of his own.

 _“No, it is not. But how..? The mark, perhaps..?”,_ Solas murmured back in elvish, his voice sounding slightly broken and laced with an immeasurable pain.

The words spoken in fluent elvish could not be translated in Fane’s brain, even though it was a seemingly simple statement. And that, had the young elf nearly wanting to weep in agony as the deafening silence only seemed to surround him more in shades of grey and shades of black.

Everything was merely a blank canvas crying out for an unending colorscape to fill in its pores.


	16. Chapter 15 - Decaying Sanity Amid Golden Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure on Fane's shoulders finally leads him to crack, but he had no idea it would set in motion events that would soon lead him down a predestined path. One that is still yet unbeknownst to him. A path of madness and a path of a broken vow long forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when did this turn into a Solas/Lavellan story? I have no idea what you're talking about! Anyways, I been rolling these ideas around in my head for a long time and I think I know how I want this story to go. It only took my fifteen chapters, am I right?! This is going to focus heavily on Solas and Fane since the two of them are connected. Obviously, Fane is still wary of why his thoughts keep diverting to everyone's favorite mage (I love him, if nothing else). Try to read this as if its a bounce of Fane's thoughts and the ones that he continues to hear. I kind of threw in a theory I have about Uthenera as well. (Hush, hush. That's all you're getting.)  
> Also, I do not hate Cassandra, by any means. She seems harsh and merciless because that's how Fane perceives her. It will be a long, long time before the two of them actually get friendly with each other. Varric will end up being someone Fane is insanely close with, especially when Hawke gets into the picture.(You have no idea how excited I am to write my Hawke, like I'm not kidding.) But Solas, he is someone Fane immediately warms up to. It's more than just that feeling of recognition for Fane. It's complex, to say the least.   
> But enjoy as the plot thickens and I heap more pain onto my child!

Fane had just wanted to get  _ out _ of Orlais as soon as possible. Especially after the whole debacle that had happened in Val Royeaux. Not only had Fane been in a sour mood because of what had taken place on the bridge beforehand, but his irritability had only increased once Cassandra and he had managed to make their way to the gathering crowd at the center of the market. What had taken place was an absolute joke. As expected, the clerics had put on a good show of making it out like Fane was the evil heretic that had killed their precious Divine. The young elf had seen that coming from a mile away. The Chantry wasn’t anything if not  _ predictable _ . The mother on the podium had been the prime example of what Fane expected. Brash and haughty. Barely anyone to tremble before like they would be smited with lightning. Fane still hadn’t gotten over the look of utter disbelief on Cassandra’s face when he had actually taken a stand. Hadn’t the purpose been to speak with them in the first place? So, that’s what he had done. 

“ _Finished? No? By all means, continue then. Who am I to speak against those who are evidently higher than me simply because they are_ ** _human_** _? Who am I to speak against those who fall to their knees and_ ** _pray_** _to a silent god for deliverance instead of relying on their own strength and self awareness? Who am I to speak against those who let innocent_ ** _blood_** _pour from their hands as they do_ ** _nothing_** _. So, please,_ ** _continue_** **.** _Continue to appeal to your people with_ ** _silence_** _while_ ** _I_** _do your job for you.”,_ he remembered himself saying as a low growl had torn from his throat. 

In retrospect, Fane could probably have worded everything he said a bit more delicately, but he wasn’t a ‘delicate’ type of person. To even believe he could be was a joke. 

And if that hadn’t stirred the pot enough, with everyone in the crowd gasping and whispering as the mother had squawked more profanities towards him, templars had marched into the square like they owned the place. That had thrown Fane for a loop, but only slightly since the agent at the gate that the Seeker had been talking to, when Fane had had his little ‘color’ episode, had informed them that there ‘might’ be templars appearing. But still, Fane hadn’t thought they had the  _ balls _ to do anything besides run. That’s what it was to Fane, at any rate. The templars had run from their Chantry, from their duties, and from the people who expected everything of them. Fane couldn’t blame them, honestly, but it still left a bitter taste in this mouth. To run from duty..it was something complex for Fane. Though, he supposed he was doing much of the same thing in terms of running. Fane ran from his past, his torment, and from his own people as well. But that was where the similarities ended. If a duty was thrusted upon him, then he would pick up a sword and fight even if he hated the circumstance of getting to that point. He was nothing if not loyal. If not to the cause, then to himself. A sword was a sword, no matter its shape. They all cut down enemies the same way. Quickly. Brutally.  _ Mercilessly _ . Templars were simply a pretty facade for what the Chantry wanted to propagate; control. Control over the people with faith as the bargaining chip. Fane may be brash and aggressive, but he wasn’t a controlling power monger. He knew how the world worked when it came to the rise and fall of the weak and the powerful, and he simply chose his battles. But, to get mixed into games of influence and politics was not something that appealed to him. However, the Lord Seeker had been Fane’s shining proof of what the allure of power and influence _ could do  _ to a person if they succumbed to it. 

The man, if Fane could even call him that, was downright authoritative. The Lord Seeker had had this air about him that radiated  _ control _ and  _ domination. _ Those traits had only intensified when Fane watched the Lord Seeker storm the stage that the Chantry mother was standing on and allow one of his own men to knock the elderly woman unconscious. It had been an interesting turn of events, but again,  _ predictable _ . Fane remembered locking eyes with the confident man as the Lord Seeker glared down at him from atop his ‘tower’. 

“ _ Hmph. Can’t come down to face me yourself? I suppose it is easier to look down on those from a safe perch because if you were in front of me,  _ **_I’d_ ** _ be looking down at  _ **_you_ ** _.”,  _ Fane remembered saying to the sneering human, having felt completely bored with the whole display by that point. 

The Lord Seeker had merely sneered at him like he was a rat to be exterminated. Fane had felt a smidge of amusement at the look as he had leveled the human with a sharp glare of his own.

“ _ As if you are even worth my time, elf. Your  _ **_deformity_ ** _ is nothing to bask in. You are still  _ **_nothing_ ** _. To act as if you  _ **_are,_ ** _ is laughable”, _ the Lord Seeker had barked at him before he had eventually walked off the stage.

Now,  _ that _ had nearly sent Fane into an uncontrollable rage. While his odd height put him well above most elves and some humans, it was  _ not _ a deformity. The snowy haired elf could take being called nothing, easily. But to be flagrantly called a mutant because of his unusual features? Oh, no. He had wanted to slaughter the human right then and there. He remembered faintly actually reaching for his sword with a snarl as emerald eyes flashed with anger towards the defiant ones that had still been looking down on him even though the Lord Seeker had been ground level. The only thing that had stopped him from committing outright murder was the oddly strong force that was Cassandra’s grip as they had grabbed a hold of his broad shoulders to keep him back. He had literally snarled at the Seeker like he was a rabid dog when Cassandra had had a hold of him. Not only because his body had sang out in agonizing pain, but he had never had someone actively keeping him from something that incited his anger. Fane remembered the derisive sneer on the Lord Seeker’s face as he and his gaggle of templars watched his tell tale temper flare, most of their faces had been filled with apprehension towards the raving elf.

“ _ Hah! This is your ‘Herald’, Cassandra? This is the one who will deliver the faithful from the terror that bears down on them? You must be blind. Can you not see that he himself is nothing more than a  _ **_demon_ ** _. He even looks like one. White hair like that of  _ **_despair_ ** _. Sickening eyes that house  _ **_envy_ ** _. A  _ **_rage_ ** _ that would put an actual rage demon in its place. Oh yes, he will certainly protect people from danger. That is, if he does not kill them  _ **_himself_ ** _ in the meanwhile.”,  _ the Lord Seeker had bellowed loud enough for the entire crowd to hear. 

The absolute fury he had felt at that little speech had Fane nearly wanting to level the entire marketplace with his hands alone. A demon? That sniveling, glory hounding templar had had the audacity to call him a  **demon** !? And to have assumed he would  **ever** harm an innocent person was inconceivable! Fane may have destroyed countless trees, training dummies, and minor structures, but he has never  **once** inflicted his rage on an innocent person in a physical sense! Never in a million years would he succumb to that incessant primal urge in the back of his mind. The voice that screamed for him to  _ kill,  _ to  _ claim,  _ to  _ ravage _ ! Never! 

After what had felt like eons to Fane struggling against the anchor that was Cassandra, he had finally managed to tear away to approach the Lord Seeker. As Fane had surmised, he had been taller than the Lord Seeker by about a head. And the furious elf had  _ reveled _ in that feeling of superiority even if the Lord Seeker had simply glared at him with a sneer so mocking that Fane had wanted to tear the man’s face off.

_ “Herald! Enough!”,  _ he faintly remembered Cassandra shouting at him as his rage had started to redraw the crowd by together.

Fane had resolutely ignored her as he allowed the deafening silence of that tainted city to blacken his searing mind.

“ _ The only demon I see here is  _ **_you_ ** _ , human. I do not hear a heartbeat drumming in your chest. I do not sense the resolve of a templar trying to protect the ‘faithful’. I see..a coward. One who has to allow his own men to beat down a Chantry mother to get a point across. One who ran from his  _ **_duty_ ** _. Don’t get me wrong, I care for those zealots as much as you do, but do I allow my rage, my ‘demonic’ nature to guide my hand? No. My rage is directed at something you could not even _ **_begin_ ** _ to understand. I have no need for power when I have been a  _ **_victim_ ** _ of its draw.”,  _ he had snarled out so deeply Fane hadn’t thought the voice that was sounding was his.

After Fane had said what he had wanted to say to the Lord Seeker, he had merely turned away from the human, missing the glint of interest that had glimmered in the man’s eyes. The elf had not wanted to continue that pointless game of garnering and grabbing. Fane had merely wanted to leave by that point, the silence that permeated his senses having had him nearly wanting to pass out by the time his rage began to ebb away. And so, without another word, another glance towards any of the people gathered around to watch everything like a show, he had stormed past Cassandra to the main gates. He had seen the flicker of disapproval in Cassandra’s hard eyes as he had done so, but he hadn’t cared. Fane had just wanted to  _ leave _ . And they had. But of course, the Seeker was now voicing her utter disapproval with his actions after the two of them had rejoined Solas and Varric at the main entrance, the two looking completely baffled from the Seeker’s furious disposition.

“Are you actually insane, Herald!?”, Cassandra shouted at him with unrestrained fury as she marched next to his own stiff figure.

“Maybe.”, Fane said simply, his face feeling heavy with tiredness from everything he’s put up with today.

He knew that he had let his anger get the best of him back in the square, but Fane hadn’t been able to control it. The silence of this place, the utter colorlessness of it, as well, had him wanting to destroy it all. So, perhaps the Seeker was correct. He was insane. He heard Cassandra let out an angry growl as she grabbed his arm roughly, his body immediately seizing up with pain. Fane let out a deep snarl as his body nearly doubled over. How many times must he go over this?!

“ **Stop. Touching. ME!** ”, he roared as he ripped his arm away from the now shocked Seeker, faintly hearing Varric curse quietly under his breath, and he could feel the distinct feeling of a piercing knowing gaze on his back.

Fane glared daggers into the human woman as he forced himself to stand up straight, the pain feeling like fire against his skin. This was becoming too much. The pain, the anger, the constant desire to warp him into something he was  **not** ! He did not want  **any** of it! 

“You think I  **like** getting angry, human?! Where I become so filled with seething rage that I can’t even hear my own thoughts?! I don’t! I hate it so much my soul  _ aches!  _ But how do you wish for me to act as I’m called a demon?! As I’m paraded about by you like an..an exotic animal?! Do you **understand** the pressure that you’ve placed on  **my** shoulders?! You think I can simply play the diplomat who understands how this petty shit works?! I  **don’t** ! Nor will I  **ever** ! My people  **suffered** because of shit like this! I’ll be damned if I become an instrument of it, as you are!”, he shouted as he towered over the human woman with flashing golden emerald eyes, 

Fane was panting heavily as he spat out the last of his words, watching the myriad of emotions dance across the Seeker’s face at his rant. He saw anger, disapproval, and..regret. That was new. He was used to fear, but not regret. Fane wondered with mild interest why the Seeker had shown that type of emotion? Did she regret making him stay with the Inquisition? Did she regret coming to Val Royeaux? If so, she should have listened to him in the first place when he said it would be nothing but trouble! Even  _ Leliana _ had said this would be a waste of time! And look at where they were! Arguing and bickering like idiots! As much as Fane wished to cut the whole thing short to save himself the trouble of an impending headache, he would not stand here and continue to swallow everything this human was spouting at him! He wouldn’t!

“I wish for you to act like an  **adult** ! You kick and stomp your feet like a petulant child every time something goes awry! I am not forcing you to become something you are not, Herald! But I  **am** expecting you to show a measure of self control on the Inquisition’s behalf! I am expecting you to take this seriously! I am  **not** expecting you to abandon who you are!”, Cassandra shouted back at him as she glared up at him with furious intent, regret sealed away somewhere deep in her eyes. 

Fane felt his mind go blank as Cassandra’s words sounded in his mind. On the..Inquisition’s behalf?  _ That’s _ the only thing that mattered to this..this human, wasn’t it?! Her precious little uprising that was tearing the land into two, more than the mages and templars were!? Oh, but he was a fool! A fool to ever think he could potentially reason with these people! He’ll be damned if he’s tossed from faction to faction, forever a  _ pawn _ in a series of endless games! His hands clenched into fists from where they were stiffly hanging at his sides, the leather creaking uncomfortably.

“And yet, you **force** your religion and beliefs down my throat like a poison. I am  **not** your Herald. I will not  **pretend** to be! I will not  **deny** who I am simply because it is inconvenient for  **you** and your little game of war!! **”,** he bellowed, the mark on his hand flaring to life for the first time in awhile, “I will not  **burn** like your pathetic prophet did! I will not continue to  **suffer** for  **your** people’s mistakes!!”, he continued with a stone shaking roar, feeling a crackling whip travel up his arm, the glow intensifying.

Fane barely registered the look of horror on the Seeker’s face as his mark began to audibly crackle with green magic or her shout towards Solas, who was looking at him in calm disbelief. He was so angry he could barely hear himself think! His head was pounding so fiercely that the world felt like it was just one large heartbeat. He couldn’t see past the rage as it surrounded him like a blanket. 

“I..I will not..!”, he started with a harsh gasp as the mark pulsated once and then once more, “I..I will not..be..”, he tried again, his mind feeling as if it was being yanked by an invisible rope.

Fane felt the world shift and crack underneath his shaking legs as he nearly fell over the railing that lined the marble bridge, bracing himself with his arms outstretched on the cool stone. What was happening? He couldn’t control his body! It was like it was moving without a thought! He could feel his stiff body shuddering as the magic flowed through his arm like a torrent, leaving searing pain in its wake. Fane let out a gasp of pain as his knees buckled, hitting the marble harshly. What was this feeling of weightlessness? This instability?! He couldn’t focus! He couldn’t see the shimmering of water as the sun glinted off of it from how potent his rage felt!

“Herald!”, he heard Cassandra shout in concern and fear.

Fane’s mind throbbed at the title as he squeezed his emerald eyes shut. No. No! He was not the Herald! He was no one but himself! He would not be  _ warped _ into something he was not because someone else demanded it!

“Seeker, enough! Do not continue instigating!”, he heard Solas’s voice through the pounding in his ears from his head.

The mage sounded..angry? Scared? Fane couldn’t tell through his own rage as it rose to a fever pitch. It was so tangible, so  _ real _ , like if he reached out and touched the air his anger would become manifest! Was this how magic felt..? What was happening?! 

“Then do  _ something _ ! Before the mark brings the entire city down!”, Cassandra commanded the elven mage furiously.

Yes..bring it down. Burn it. Destroy it. Sunder it! Flood the entire premise with color! Let it  _ sing _ ! Fane felt a snap like his mind had just split as he felt the mark crack up his arm once more, the magic licking at the air. With a weak movement, Fane raised his marked hand to watch the magic dance along his fingers and arm violently. He felt..odd. He could feel the familiar nausea rising in his throat from the scent of such potent magic, but that wasn’t what was odd. The mark..the mark could destroy it all, couldn’t it? It could rend this corrupted world! It..It could  _ destroy _ it! Yes, yes! It would bring the color back! It  _ would _ ! As the crazed elf latched onto those feelings of destruction, he felt his face break into a wide grin as the mark flared angrily, but also  _ approvingly _ . That’s right. There was a way. He could bring it all back! He could wipe these humans from the face of Thedas with a single gesture! He would make them  _ suffer _ , then who would they cry for?! Not him, not their silent Maker, not the Chantry, and not the templars! They would have  _ no one _ ! Just like his people didn’t have anyone to pray to or any place to call home! He would make them all see. See the lies and the twisted truths! The pain and sorrow! The death and destruction! All of it! Fane felt his body shuddering as the magic continued to soar up his arm, the glow almost burning his eyes with how bright it was. 

“Sunder it! Crush them! Tear it apart!”, he growled to himself, his face twitching as the magic began to become increasingly more painful.

As his mark flared with sickening satisfaction, Fane felt cool hands grab a hold of his face firmly, forcing him to look away from the sickly green tendrils. The shock of cold skin against his warm cheeks had Fane’s mind snapping back from its insanity for a moment, his face still wanting to break into a wicked grin even as he tried to stop it. What was..what was that? Why did it feel like his mind wanted to blacken? Why was Solas holding his face so firmly like Fane was about to float away?

“Calm, Herald. Breathe.”, Solas commanded him slowly, his face an indescribable mask of concentration.

The moment he heard Solas use that forsaken title, his mind disconnected once again as it filled with seething rage. Fane snarled angrily as he tried to pull away from Solas’s cool grasp. No, he would not do as he was commanded! He was his own judge, jury, and executioner! He would burn this world to the  _ ground _ ! He would have  _ order _ ! He would have  **vengeance** !

“Let.. **GO** !!”, he screamed as the magic flared once more along his arm, seeing a flash of bright golden light in front of his vision.

Solas held him fast as Fane tried to wretch himself away from the mage. He felt his consciousness starting to drift away as his eyes narrowed from the intensity of his anger until he heard Solas let out a silent sigh. What was the mage planning? What was going to be forced upon him this time?! Fane clawed at the hands on his face, but Solas pulled him forward, locking eyes with his furious golden emerald ones.

“Focus on here, not there.  _ Focus _ , da’len. Do  **not** let it control you.”, Solas whispered to him soothingly and firmly, his steel blue eyes staring into his soul.

Fane snarled once more in equal measures of pain and fury as his mark pulsated in time with his throbbing head. There was nothing to focus on! No color! No sound! Not in this broken world! It was so muted and silent! It was  _ dead!  _ He needed to fix it!

_ “ _ I..I can’t..!! I..I have to..fix it..!”, he hissed between clenched teeth, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes as his mind became unbearably tight with pressure.

“No, you don’t. That is not your burden to bear, da’len.. _. _ ”, Solas instructed him firmly, his thumbs absently stroking his pale cheeks as Fane saw a hint of that same pain in Solas’s eyes from before, but he could barely focus on it as his mind continued to pull and twist.

Fane fiercely shook his head as the smell of magic began to invade his nostrils, a wave of intense nausea filling his stomach as his mind faltered from its rage once more. He was tired of these games. He..He just wanted to hear his  _ name _ . He didn’t want to be nothing more than an icon or an instrument of power. His father had already done that with him! He would not let it happen again!

“S..Solas..my name..”, he pleaded brokenly, feeling unfamiliar light tears begin to escape from pained eyes as his crazed mind began to slowly sober.

Solas blinked before complete understanding flashed across the mage’s stern face. That look..he’d seen that look before. But..from where? It was like earlier with the pain in Solas’s eyes. He wanted to latch onto it. He wanted to remember it! Where? Where had he seen that look before?!

“M..My name..please..”, he begged, feeling the anger begin to flow away like a broken dam, but only to be replaced by overwhelming anguish. 

He felt cool magic wash over him hesitantly. The feeling nearly sent him completely to the ground, but Solas held him fast, keeping their eyes locked on each other. Why was the mage using magic on him?! He knew what it did to Fane! At his pained expression, Solas gave him an apologetic smile as his thumbs began to stroke his cheeks once more.

“I am sorry, but it is the only way to calm your mark. You are in no state to try to use the potion I gave you. It will be over soon, I promise,-”, Solas whispered calmingly as he continued to work his magic into Fane’s flickering hand, his face twisting into a conflicted expression before speaking once more, “..Fane.”, the mage whispered out his name gently.

At the sound of his name, Fane’s emerald eyes blew wide open before his expression twisted into an expression of anguish and relief, his discomfort and nausea forgotten briefly. Solas seemed to see the utter relief in his emerald gaze because the mage smiled gently at him. At that smile, Fane felt like the entire world became stable once more. The insanity that had coursed through his thoughts felt like nothing more than a bad dream as he fought back tears. It bred a feeling of nostalgic warmth and comfort in his chest. ‘It will be over soon’. Where had Fane heard that before? He can’t remember, not when his whole body began to feel heavy and stiff. All he could remember was his name as it sounded from Solas’s lips. He wanted to protect that voice, that smile, and that glint of familiarity in the mage’s steely eyes. He wanted to protect  _ Solas.  _ But why? And why had the mage seemed so conflicted about saying his name? Fane was truly going insane, wasn’t he? If he was, then it was about time, he’d say. As his mark began to dim into a barely noticeable flicker, Fane felt his entire body become as jelly would; weak and boneless.

“Thank you..”, he murmured weakly as he let his snowy head fall onto Solas’s shoulder, the mage easily taking his weight.

Fane thought he’d be feeling embarrassed by how he leaned against the elder elf, but all he felt was comfort. Thankfully, the elven mage simply let him rest there, respectfully keeping his hands off of Fane’s body.

“It is no concern. Just continue to focus on where you are, what you are doing, and why you are here. Allow yourself to feel the stability of the ground under you and the weightlessness of the sky above. Do not try to mix the two. Keep your thoughts in the air and your body on the ground. Can you do that?”, Solas murmured to him carefully, knowing his mind was still fragile. 

Fane nodded minutely as his unfocused gaze stared at the marble between the two of them as he felt his mind slowly ease up on its throbbing. What had all of that been? One minute he had felt numbness from the whole ordeal in the square, and then just red hot rage as Cassandra confronted him. He had claimed he did not let his anger guide his hand, but..isn’t that what he just did? He had almost given in to that incessant urge that has always been echoing in the back of his mind for five years. Frankly, a lot of his thoughts had not felt like his own. They had felt..distant. Like they were being pulled from somewhere else and inserted to be perceived as his own thoughts. And they had been..terrifying. Like a living nightmare. Fane wished that was all this had been, but life was not fair to him; to anyone. 

With a deep inhale, Fane could smell whispers of pine and magic as he rested against the elven apostate. For once, the smell of ozone didn’t make his stomach churn. Instead, it only seemed to ground him to the physical realm more. He had never felt  _ comfort _ from magic. Not for a very long time.

“ _ He smells like home..” _ , he thought with a gentle huff of air through his nose, slightly amused by the feeling coursing through his mind and body. 

He doesn’t know how long he rested against Solas’s shoulder, practically basking in the scent that was so strangely comforting to him, but he knew that it was the calmest he’d felt in a long while. That is, until Fane remembered that they were in public, and that they weren’t the only two here. 

“Shit!”, he cried out as he scrambled away from the elven mage, pointedly staring away from him and his other two companions, who were stunned into silence from the whole event. 

Fane leaned back against the stone railing as he felt his pale face flush with heat. Oh, fantastic! He was blushing! Just what everyone needed to see after all of that! He was insane. Completely, utterly  _ insane _ !

“I..I..um..!”, he stuttered out eloquently, his blush only deepening at the look of amusement on Solas’s face as he chanced a glance towards the mage. 

Fane felt his jaw lock up at the look on Solas’s face as he balled his hands into fists against the smooth marble. This..this old man! He wanted to punch Solas’s face in with how smug it looked! Why had he felt the need to protect it?! An audible awkward clearing of a throat had Fane looking up in bewilderment. What he saw was Varric grinning like a cat. The expression on the dwarf’s face had Fane wanting to knock his teeth in with how much  _ more _ embarrassed it was making him! He just wanted to punch everyone right now! This whole ordeal had been nothing but vulnerability and awkwardness! Two things Fane was not used to, nor did he want to be! 

“W..What’s that look for, dwarf!? I’m getting tired of you people constantly staring at me!”, he cried, trying to sound angry, but his voice only wobbled with embarrassment.

Varric’s grin only grew as the dwarf just shrugged his shoulders, turning on his heel to head towards the exit.

“Oh, nothing, Tempest! Just something I think I’ll use for a story I’m writing!”, Varric called back to him from over his shoulder as the dwarf seemed to skip towards the exit.

But Fane could tell it was more than giddiness that led the dwarf’s stocky legs; there was also a hint of urgency to get away from  _ him _ . Fane supposed that was normal after what just happened, but it still left a feeling of emptiness in his chest. Still though.. 

Fane moved to stand up to chase after the rogue. No way in hell was he going to be used as a muse for one of the dwarf’s tall tales! As he pushed himself up to stand, Fane had to brace himself on the railing as his legs threatened to give out. What the hell?! Why was his body so weak all of a sudden?

“What the..? I can’t..! Ugh!”, he growled as he slowly pushed himself up with only his arms, those also shaking with effort. 

He guessed that entire ordeal left him worse off than he’d originally thought. He hadn’t thought his anger would leave him this drained! Though, he supposed it had been more than just plain rage. It had been a mess of emotions that, frankly, Fane couldn’t remember half of them. The snowy haired elf felt a steadying hand place itself under his elbow gingerly, helping him to stand up to his full height. 

“Huh..?”, he said softly before looking up to see Solas smiling at him calmly, the mage’s careful mask back in place, “Oh, um..thanks.”, Fane muttered out shyly, wanting to bash his head against the stone from the sound of his voice.

Solas only smiled more at that as he kept a hold of Fane until he saw the fiery elf could stand on his own. Fane averted his gaze at the smile on Solas’s face as he tested his balance carefully, sighing in relief when he could take a step without stumbling. That was good. At least he wasn’t a complete invalid. He took a few more steps before shifting his weight carefully from leg to leg, nodding in approval once he felt completely grounded. 

“Better.”, he muttered tiredly, running a hand through snowy locks.

Fane looked up to see Solas watching with interest, the mage’s gaze calm and calculating. The emerald eyed elf grimaced slightly as he crossed his arms across his chest. More staring. Lovely.

“See something you like, or did that display finally tip you off as to how much of a monster I am? Varric got it, so why don’t you scurry off next? I’m used to being feared. It doesn’t bother me anymore..”, he growled out with irritation lacing his voice.

Solas blinked at his statement before shaking his head slowly, his smile becoming faint. Oh. Fane furrowed his brow with the feeling of pain that diminished smile gave him. He looked down at his boots as they shifted awkwardly against the marble. Why did he always have to snap at people? Solas had just helped him when no one else had given a damn. The mage didn’t deserve his ire. Honestly, Fane should be more thankful towards the elder elf, but..well, he had never been good with ‘respecting’ his elders, if the memories of how many times he and the Keeper had gotten into altercations were any indication.

“You are not a monster.”, a soft voice reached his ears, his head snapping up to look at Solas, whose eyes were laced with guarded remorse.

“I..I’m not a monster..?”, he repeated in question, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Fane watched as Solas’s expression turned into a deep frown, his head shaking back and forth slowly.

“You are not a monster. You are  _ scarred _ . And you have been through much in such a short span of time. I believe Varric is merely allowing you to have your space. Whereas I am attempting to understand the root cause. We are not fearful of you. Your anger, your  _ emotions _ , are not wrong, Herald. They are  _ natural _ .”, Solas explained with a calm expression, briefly throwing a small glare towards Cassandra as if to make a point, but the Seeker was too busy staring daggers into Fane from her spot on the other side of the two elves, “..As are other’s emotions. However, that does not give anyone the right to claim your’s are  _ wrong _ or  _ inconvenient _ . Just as you cannot dismiss theirs as  _ worthless _ and  _ selfish. _ ”, the elven apostate finished as he directed his stern stare back at Fane’s confused one.

Fane gripped his arms as his expression deepened into a frown of confusion. His emotions were..natural? How could such unchecked rage be natural? The rage Fane had felt only moments before was so keen and horrifying, that he truly believed he would one day murder an innocent bystander if they were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire. It had almost happened earlier with the Lord Seeker, too. Fane had been so overcome with fury at being perceived as an abnormality that he had wanted to slit the templar’s ugly neck, not even thinking that others were watching and were within range of any collateral damage. It had been such a small and insignificant jab that set him off. He could have hurt someone,  _ anyone _ . A woman, an elder, a..child.. Fane looked down at his boots once more with a troubled grimace at the thought of potentially murdering an innocent child. Children were pure and innocent, no matter their ancestry. They were free of prejudice and the horror of the world. They did not deserve a potentially gruesome end because of a monster like him.. And yet, Solas had said he wasn’t, even after witnessing what had just transpired. The mage also said Varric understood this as well, but Fane swore he saw an urgency in the dwarf’s steps. Did he misunderstand? Fane was not used to people being understanding of  _ him _ . Well, if that’s even what the elven mage was trying to do, that is. Maybe he was just spouting off nonsense to keep Fane placated, so the young elf wouldn’t go off the rails again? No..Solas didn’t seem the type to do that to him; to anyone, really. But, had he really come across as dismissive, as well? Well, actually, he supposed he had. Ever since waking up a prisoner, Fane had been downright verbally abusive, brushing off anyone’s attempt at concern or their thoughts on everything. He  _ had _ seen it as worthless and born of selfishness. Even if he could see the truth of Solas’s words, Fane still held that bitter resentment in his heart. That wouldn’t just go away overnight. Not when the one responsible for his resentment was staring at him like he was a fire rune waiting to go off. Fane huffed tiredly as he continued to feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on the back of his lowered head. He was  _ so _ tired. 

“..We will talk later. I want to get out of this place before anything else decides to go wrong..”, he grumbled out as he lifted his head, still keeping his gaze pointedly away from the silent Seeker.

Fane saw what looked like a faint smile of approval from the corner of his eyes as Solas nodded his head at him. The elf merely scoffed as he turned his gaze to look out over the reflective pool surrounding Val Royeaux. He didn’t need the approval of someone else. He wasn’t a dog to be praised every time it got a command correct. Even if..no. He didn’t need praise. To think he would even entertain that thought was unbelievable. However, Solas’s words  _ had _ been what drove him to at least say something, but Fane had already told  _ himself _ to try. If anything, the elven mage was simply helping him keep on track. That was all.

Fane continued to stare out across the pool, watching flickers of color try to invade his vision, but then dispersing like the wind. He frowned at that. Yes. He needed to leave. He needed the forest and its lush greens and dark browns. He needed to hear the twittering of sparrows as they questioned the elf’s presence. Fane needed  _ life _ . And he needed to get out before his rage decided to rear its ugly head once more. Even now, he could feel it simmering in the back of his mind like a pot of water over a fire. With another huff, Fane looked up to glower at the still silent Seeker as she continued to glare daggers into him. He raised a snowy eyebrow, but ultimately shrugged once before moving towards the exit, where Varric was scribbling down something on a pad of paper. 

“Fine. You can come to me when you wish to talk, human. I’m not staying here.”, Fane grumbled out as he glided past the Seeker without a single glance in her direction.

Fane kept his head held high as he strided down the bring, long legs barely finding the distance to the exit challenging. His pointed ears twitched slightly from the sound of two voices; one of them Solas’s and the other’s was Cassandra’s. Emerald eyes glanced back over his broad shoulder to see the mage and Seeker speaking with each other. Fane could see that Solas was simply shaking his head with a stern frown at the Seeker’s rushed words as the woman’s face held an expression of disapproval and..concern? Snowy brows furrowed deeply at that.

“ _ She’s concerned? About me? No, not me. Her Inquisition. That’s what matters to her.” _ , he thought with disdain before jerking his head back towards his path as he saw the two make eye contact with him for a brief moment. 

He didn’t need this tension or this petty infighting. Maybe once he was out of this forsaken country he would feel more himself. However, he wouldn’t know until those two got moving! As Fane caught up to Varric, who gave him a quick smile before pointedly going back to his scribbling, he felt a growl rumble in his throat when he didn’t feel either Solas’s or Cassandra’s presence. Did they not know when to take a hint?!

“Let’s  **go** , you two! Unless you  _ want _ me to raze the buildings!”, he bellowed to the two half way down the bridge, seeing Solas look up from Cassandra’s gaze to give him an understanding nod before the mage waved at the Seeker to follow. 

Fane watched as Cassandra gave him a piercing look before following after Solas slowly. That made him scoff. Was she going to continue this for the entire journey back to Haven? Well, it was no skin of his nose if the woman did. Maybe he would have some peace for once. Unfortunately, they still had some minor business in this disgusting area, but he guessed his little feud with the Seeker had been good for something. However, Fane could feel that what had provoked his outburst was not truly over as a wave of thick tension washed over the party as Cassandra and Solas caught up with them. Nothing would ever truly be resolved, would it?

“About time..”, he grumbled impatiently as he turned away from the two stragglers, rubbing a hand along his face harshly.

He heard a disgusted snort from the Seeker at his grumbling, his skin bristling with still simmering rage. Slowly, Fane closed his eyes to take a deep breath. No. He would not let his rage burst forth again. Not now. He’ll properly vent when he’s back at Haven, when he’s alone in the field and can destroy simple trees and stone. He can’t risk anyone else seeing or getting hurt for his lack of control. As Fane felt his anger fizzle to a smouldering ember, he looked down to see Varric giving him a devious, but concerned smile. Oh, great. What did Fane do now?

“You know, Tempest. I know just the thing that’ll put you in a better mood!”, Varric proclaimed as he stuffed his notepad into his jacket.

Fane’s face went blank as he began to march past the dwarf, his emerald eyes staring straight ahead. Nope. He wasn’t in the mood for this line of conversation.

“Not interested.”, he stated plainly, focusing on his strides.

His ears twitched as Varric barked out a laugh, the dwarf jogging after him with ease. Fane blinked as he glanced down at the quick dwarf. How the hell was he so fast?! Stocky legs shouldn’t even be able to keep up with his longer ones! Another laugh sounded as Varric took in his surprised expression.

“You forget, Tempest, my best friend is the Champion! Hawke is about as tall as you are, if not  _ taller _ ! This is nothing!”, Varric said with a large smile, but Fane could see a hint of sadness behind it, “Anyways! What I was about to say is that you and I get a drink back at Haven! It’ll help you relax a bit!”, the dwarf suggested with an even larger smile, this one devoid of any sorrow.

Fane sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair, slowing his strides slightly. While this whole thing was trying his patience, Fane couldn’t fault the dwarf for the suggestion. A drink probably would help him. Many, many drinks. With another exasperated sigh, Fane threw his hand down from his hair as he directed a glare towards the grinning dwarf.

“Fine, dwarf. But if you even  _ try _ to take my money when I’m blacked out, I  _ will _ crush your windpipe.”, Fane growled out with flashing golden emerald eyes.

He watched as Varric put a hand on his chest in mock disbelief. The action  _ almost _ made the corner of Fane’s mouth twitch. Almost.

“You wound me, your Fierceness! I would  _ never  _ steal!”, Varric said loudly as the two of them walked side by side. 

Fane highly doubted that. The dwarf seemed the type to snatch something if he felt inclined to. With a snort, Fane picked up his pace once more as he felt a tell tale stare on the back of his head. Solas was watching him again. Maybe he should wear a bag over his head at this rate.

“Sure, dwarf. Whatever you say.”, Fane stated blandly as the party finally managed to exit the city. 

As Fane heard Varric bark out another laugh at his dismissive statement, his emerald gaze turned up to the sky, spotting the bright green of the Breach in the far distance. It was easy for him to discern because it was the only object that screamed color into his vision, even if it was that sickly green color like his mark. As he clenched his marked hand in time with his thoughts, Fane let out a silent sigh, steadying his mind as it threatened to break into another throbbing headache. He would close it. He would slam it shut so that his mind would be at peace. He was no longer doing this for the world, he was doing this for himself. The mark seared across the palm of his hand should have been what made this personal for him, but it didn’t. The application was probably just mere coincidence, but his mind still had not remembered what exactly happened. No, it was personal now as his rage flared to heights he’s never witnessed before and his mind threatened to crack like slated stone. The Breach now  _ threatened him _ . Even if Fane wished to see this world burn into cinder and ash, he would not. He would stay whole. He would stay  _ himself _ . He was  _ not _ an abnormality. He was  _ not _ a demon. No, Fane was a wall. Immovable and silent. He was designed to kill, but he had made the choice to protect. Protect his sister, protect himself, and protect..him. Fane glanced back to the man his thoughts had mentioned. He watched with bemusement as Varric was now bothering the elder elf, Solas simply pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation at whatever the dwarf was rambling on about, but Fane could also see a smidge of interest in Solas’s expression. The sight made Fane’s chest tighten with a familiar sense of longing that had him turning his eyes away with confusion twisting his face into a frown. 

“ _ Who  _ **_are_ ** _ you to me, Solas..? Why do I feel this way towards you? I don’t know you..so why?” _ , he thought to himself, desperately trying to latch onto the feeling of a memory as it wiggled through his mind, ultimately feeling it slip through his fingers.

As with most of his memories that were not ones of torment and pain, the longing slipped through the cracks of his mind like sand within a sand glass. Lost to the passing of time as many things were in the broken muted world Fane found himself enduring. And endure he would, until the sand finally ran out and he could no longer protect those he found dear, even the one who was stranger and friend both. He would endure until his mind broke and his rage encompassed his every thought. But until that day, Fane would force back the primal urge and the destruction, if not only for himself, but for the one that he found himself wanting to protect more than his sister. The one that felt familiar and strange at the same time. The one that exuded authority, but skillfully hid it behind meek words and a sorrowful mask. 

“ _ I will protect you until I fail to do so.. Just like I did long ago..” _ , he found himself thinking, but the reasoning for such thoughts were lost to him as his mind carefully tucked them away as the sand glass that was his decaying mind continued to flow, grain by tiny grain.

Each one a memory as it slipped through the cracks of a life long forgotten and a broken golden vow.


	17. Chapter 16 - A Cracked Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More tempers flare as the party slowly makes their way back to Haven, but not before running a few errands in Orlais.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just reshape events because I felt it flowed better than how the game presented it? Why, yes I did! I understand that Orlais is so ass backwards when it comes to things like arrows and shit being shot in a public area, but come on! Sera is more tactful than how the game presented her sending her message to the Herald! And I mean, this gave me a really good excuse for more plot. I'll start to move slightly away from focusing so heavily on Solas and Fane's interactions after the next chapter, and start developing more of his relationships with the other members of the Inquisition. Primarily Varric and Cullen, for the most part. Those two are literally gonna end up being Fane's best bros. It's unavoidable.  
> Also, someone get this boy a blanket and a pillow. He needs a damn nap.

Fane couldn’t have gotten back to Haven quick enough, in his opinion. After everything that had happened in Orlais, the young elf had merely wanted to leave the forsaken country behind and never return. Unfortunately, Fane did end up having to stay longer than was originally the plan since something rather interesting had happened. He had been invited to a ‘salon’ by the First Enchanter of Montsimmard. Madame Vivienne de Fer, to be exact. Now,  _ he _ actually hadn’t received the invitation. It was addressed to him, yes, but Fane had been so focused on getting  _ out _ of Val Royeaux, that the messenger had actually given it to the Seeker, who then gave it to him when their small party had decided to stop for the night. Fane had insisted they keep moving since he was in a rush to leave the country, but Solas had more or less pushed him into giving in. Fane remembered the conversation well, as emerald eyes glared into the dancing flames of their fire. Solas had been sitting next to him with a look of blank concentration.

“ _ I don’t need rest. I need to  _ **_leave_ ** _.”,  _ Fane had practically snapped at the well meaning mage. 

“ _ And in order for that to happen, you must  _ **_rest_ ** _ first, Herald. You cannot deny that your entire ordeal in Val Royeaux did not leave you exhausted.”,  _ Solas had told him as the mage was inspecting his marked hand. 

“ _ Hmph.” _ , he had merely huffed in annoyance before letting the apostate do what he wished.

Fane  _ had _ been exhausted. More than exhausted. He had literally been staggering along the road that led back towards Ferelden. But would he have come out and said that? No. However, ever the perceptible one, Solas had seen through him like a gossamer veil. Fane still didn’t understand how the man did that like it was second nature. Maybe he was truly that transparent? Who knew? It was only after Solas had left him for that night, not before more or less  _ demanding _ that he get some sleep, that the Seeker had finally approached him about the invitation. Even though what happened in the market had been hours behind them, Cassandra had not spoken to him directly, opting to instead communicate through Solas. The invitation had been the first time in hours that the Seeker had actively sought him out. But even that was short and straight to the point. The taciturn Seeker had merely set the scrap of elegant paper next to him without a word before she had retreated to her tent for the night. Fane hadn’t even been able to question her with how quickly she had retreated. For some reason, that had had him feeling a tinge of guilt. Did he regret what he had said back at the capital city? No. His feelings of guilt had been from how he  _ acted _ . The way he had roared at the equally as angry woman, the way he had felt his hand twitch towards his sword, and the path that his thoughts had taken. Naturally, Fane had still been stewing over what had happened just outside Val Royeaux. His destructive thoughts that had not felt like his own, his odd lack of hearing certain sounds or seeing certain colors, and those indescribable feelings of familiarity towards those same emotions and Solas. Fane had literally done the opposite of what Solas had suggested he do, and had stayed up all night just thinking and rehashing everything that had transpired. Not that it had gotten him any answers as to why he had reacted the way he had. But what was done was done. But, suffice it to say, the elder elf had not been amused when he had seen the dark circles that were under Fane’s dull emerald eyes the next morning, the golden flecks within them barely noticeable. Fane had merely shrugged off Solas’s disapproval before gathering his things together. It hadn’t been anything unusual for the emerald eyed elf. One night of no sleep was nothing to him. Fane had had many nights where his nightmares were so relentless that he would opt to not sleep at all, so he didn’t have to suffer them. However, now, the exhausted elf was regretting his decision as he trudged out of the glitzy estate that belonged to Enchanter Vivienne’s..lover? Sugar daddy? Honestly, Fane didn’t have the patience to understand Orlesian politics, nor would he ever endeavor to do so. All he knew was he had  _ somehow _ gained the support of a very politically powerful mage. 

Solas, Cassandra, and Varric were standing just outside the main gate of the opulent estate when he slowly pushed it open, his body nearly buckling with exhaustion. Creators, he had never felt  _ this _ tired before.

“She wants to join for some reason. So, I guess I did something right.”, he mumbled out as he gripped a metal bar on the gate. 

The first one to address him was, of course, Varric; Cassandra and Solas seemingly locked in a conversation about something that was apparently agitating the Seeker, but he saw Solas give him a quick glance and a faint smile before looking sternly back at the human woman. Fane really didn’t care at this point. The Seeker could be grumpy as long as he eventually got to pass out.

“Well, look at you! See? Not so bad, right?”, Varric said to him encouragingly, his smile full of understanding as he stopped himself just as he was about to nudge Fane.

Ah, the dwarf was learning. Finally. Fane sighed heavily as he forced his back to straighten as exhaustion bore down on it. He missed the look of concern on Varric’s face as he rubbed his face slowly with both hands Oh, yes, the entire thing had been a blast for Fane. If it wasn’t the snobby nobles gawking at him like some prized horse, then it was the uppity little runt of a man who tried to challenge him to a duel for ‘honor’. Oh, and let’s not forget the prideful mage’s magic nearly making him puke all of the sparkling floor! That was his favorite part! Fane had never had so much  _ fun. _ This whole country was a walking nightmare. However, this ritzy place was the one place Fane could  _ hear _ and  _ see _ . He had been able to see the golden hue of trimming as it lined the estate’s railings and walls, and the sparkling red and orange as twilight descended upon the area just outside. He had heard the sound of music and the gentle cadence of voices as they seemed to ebb and flow with the faint background. This place was  _ alive _ . But what had made it so different from the rest of Orlais? The estate was similar in style and make as the buildings in Val Royeaux and the surrounding villas. There was just  _ something _ completely different here. It felt..Fane didn’t know how it felt, but he just knew that it  _ felt _ . Ugh, he was far too tired to muse about this or even feel happiness from finally being able to see a splash of beautiful color. Maybe a jolt was needed, then. At the thought, the tired elf drew a hand back slowly before firmly slapping himself across the face, an audible  _ crack _ sounding as leather met skin. Varric’s eyes widened at the display, Solas and Cassandra breaking from their argument to look over with startled expressions.

“Whoa, Tempest! What was that about?”, Varric asked him with a perplexed expression, motioning to Fane’s hand as it still hovered near his now slightly red cheek.

Fane sighed heavily as he let his hand fall to his side, tilting his head back to take a deep breath. Huh, the slap hadn’t worked. Usually, if he gave his body a little jolt of pain then it would get pumped with adrenaline to keep him going. He must be utterly spent if that hadn’t worked. As his tired eyes gazed up into the sky as night began to creep closer, Fane relished in the hues of blues, reds, pinks and oranges as the expanse slowly became a gradient of color. He could finally see it again. Those beautiful, beautiful colors.. 

A delicate tap to his arm had Fane jerking his head forward, not realizing he had been dozing off while standing. 

“Huh? Oh. You say something, Varric?”, Fane said tiredly, feeling his eyes drooping against his better judgement.

Varric looked at him with a worried expression as the elf continued to fight against the call of sleep.

“I asked why you hit yourself like that? It looked like it really stung..”, Varric repeated to him slowly, Fane feeling his gaze even as his eyes began to close once more.

Had it? Fane barely even felt his hand connecting with his face when he slapped his cheek. Generally, he didn’t feel much pain, especially when he was this exhausted. That is, unless someone inflicted the pain onto him in the first place. But coming from his own hand? Not much was felt. While his father did leave everlasting agony across the entire expanse of his being, Fane’s own mind was what triggered most of the pain he felt, so since he didn’t expect pain from his own hand, he did not feel it. If anything, that slap had felt like a stroke. 

“Not..”, he felt himself stagger forward before catching himself with a harsh jerk of his leg, “..not really. Felt like a bug..”, he mumbled as he forced himself to stay upright.

He really should have slept last night. He should have listened to Solas. He should have done  _ a lot _ of things differently, but nothing could be done about it now. He would just have to endure this as well. Fane forced his eyes open, not realizing he had shut them, as he was met with Varric’s concerned amber eyes once more. 

“Boy, you look like a dead elf walking, Tempest. Are you sure you’re alright?” Varric inquired as his eyes searched Fane’s tired face.

As Fane once again tried to process the dwarf’s question, he heard Solas and Cassandra walk over to the two of them. With great effort, Fane lifted his snowy head to glare weakly at the elf and human. The look of stern disapproval in Solas’s eyes had Fane slumping his shoulders in defeat, but grimaced as he did so. Why did this man make him feel like a scolded puppy with just one look?! Fane was an adult! He could handle himself!

“That is because he decided to foolishly stay up all night instead of resting like I asked him to.”, Solas told the concerned dwarf plainly, his hard stormy eyes still on Fane’s face as the younger elf’s eyes drooped once more.

Fane growled weakly at that. Who did this elf think he was?! Did this old man really think he had such authority over Fane that he could just tell him what to do!? Maybe he should ask him if he could go to the bathroom next time! Or when it was okay to eat! 

“Just because you asked, doesn’t mean I’ll listen, old man. Don’t _ think _ you have sway over me just because you’ve helped me three times now. I can take care of myself.”, he snarled out, his voice rough with exhaustion as he pushed himself off of the gate to stand straight.

Solas’s look of stern disapproval did not diminish at his exhaustion fueled words, but the hardness in his eyes did soften by a fraction. Fane scoffed tiredly as he hung his head, snowy bangs falling to cover his dark circles. He could pass out right here. Really, he could.

“ _ Must _ you continue to act as if the world is your enemy?”, pointed ears twitched in irritation at the sound of Seeker’s clipped voice.

Fane’s jaw locked up instantly as he rose his head a fraction, his dull emerald eyes flaring to life with tired anger. He huffed like an enraged bull, his hot breath blowing the strands of wispy white hair from his vision. He was  _ not _ in the mood for another one of these pathetic arguments. What did she know of his enemies!? Fane has fought off worse than the world and whatever is in it! He’s had to fight against his own  _ mind _ for  **nine** years! He could  _ murder _ this insipid woman! Varric caught his look of murderous intent and turned to the Seeker immediately, holding up his hands.

“Hold on now, Seeker! The kid is just tired, so don’t let his words rattle that hard shell of yours too much. Honestly, I think we’re  _ all _ exhausted. Right, Chuckles?”, Varric turned to Solas pleadingly, who was now trying to focus the angry elf’s gaze on him instead.

Fane’s glimmering emerald gaze hopelessly tried to glare through Solas, but soon his glare was directed towards the stubborn elder as golden flecks flashed with subdued rage. 

“I want to  _ kill _ her.”, he growled out quietly, trying to suppress his boiling rage as calm blue eyes stared into his own.

Fane watched as Solas shook his head slowly, his blue eyes hardening even more. 

“Focus on where you are. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest. Do  **not** focus on your rising rage. Temper it, do not fan its flames.”, Solas instructed sternly before the mage shifted his hard gaze back at Varric and Cassandra, “Varric is correct, Seeker. We are all tired. So, I would suggest you  _ both _ stop.”, the mage finished as his hard glare came back to rest on Fane’s face which was still twisted into an enraged snarl. 

Stop? This old fool wanted him to stop?! He didn’t have the luxury to stop! All his life he has had to run and run and run! He would not _continue_ to run because of one stupid human woman! Fane made to shove past the elder elf, his pointed ears twitched as he heard the knocking of an arrow as it was being drawn back. Emerald eyes became immediately alert as they darted around for the direction. 

“ _ An arrow? Where..? Where?!”,  _ he thought to himself desperately before his eyes zoned in on bright red, “ _ There! Wait..where is it gonna..?”, _ his mind tried to process the trajectory before his eyes widened, seeing the arrow finally barreling straight towards the spot he and Solas were standing.

A sudden jolt in his head had Fane staggering forward. No, no! Not right now! Not when a fucking arrow was about to pierce through..through..!

“ _ Pro..tect..w..hi..” _ , a voice whispered to him, the sound like wind upon his ear.

Fane lifted his head to catch Solas’s concerned gaze, the mage furrowing his brow as he held his hands out to steady Fane’s body. As the young continued to stare at the apostate, his head pulled once more. He had to..protect? Yes..protect! Fane’s eyes darted back towards the arrow as his eyes saw it coming closer, dread seeping into his heart as he finally discerned its intended path.

“ **MOVE** !!”, he roared, everyone looking at him in bewilderment before Fane viciously grabbed ahold of Solas’s tunic, ignoring the pained grunt the elven mage let out as Fane slammed them both to the ground, the arrow’s whistling cry flying just over his snowy head.

Fane could feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline coursing through it as his head pushed and pulled painfully. He closed his eyes tightly as tried to shake off the intense feeling of pressure in his skull. What had that indescribable feeling of desire been? It had almost been as keen as his anger! His thoughts were halted as he heard a short cough from below, his eyes snapping open to be met with confused, but interested stormy ones. Fane froze as he realized he was hovering over Solas with one arm holding himself up and the other still tightly fisted in the mage’s tunic. Oh..he had..oh no. Instantly, Fane launched himself into a kneeling position, his breathing quick still from the panic and adrenaline. 

“S..Sorry..the..the..um..”, he stuttered out panickedly, internally hitting himself for his lack of an explanation. 

Oh, he had really messed up this time. Fane had never, ever done something like that! Normally, if an arrow was barreling towards him and another person, he would merely shove the other person out of the way, but this time..his body had screamed with the  _ desire _ to shield. To protect! It had been so strong that it felt like his body had tapped into a forgotten muscle memory. However, that hadn’t given him the right to slam the mage down like a sack of flour! He was sure Solas would be  _ livid _ ! Fane’s ears twitched as he heard Solas carefully shift to sit up, wincing noticeably when he heard the elven mage wince himself. No! He hadn’t meant to cause pain! He hadn’t! Before Fane could turn his gaze back towards the elder elf to apologize, he felt strong hands grab ahold of his breastplate, surprisingly strong enough to lift him off the ground a bit. Instead of meeting stormy blue eyes, he was met with the furious brown ones of Cassandra. Oh, and Fane could tell she was absolutely  _ seething _ .

“What  **game** are you trying to play, Herald?! First you nearly endanger a city full of people, and now you are **attacking** those who wish to assist you!?”, Cassandra screamed into his face, her face twisted into a snarl.

Fane could feel himself shaking as he stared with wide eyes at the furious Seeker. But he wasn’t shaking with anger, he was shaking with..fear. Fear of himself. Fear of the ire in the Seeker's gaze. Fear of  _ everything _ . Did they not hear the arrow?! Did they not see it?! He had only tried to..to protect someone else! He hadn’t meant to hurt Solas! Why was he so terrified right now?!

“I..I..didn’t..!”, he tried, feeling the Seeker throw him down harshly, his body seizing up with pain as his back connected with hard stone.

“Hey, Seeker! Cool it! Tempest was only-!”, he heard Varric try to defend him before seeing Cassandra turn on the dwarf next.

“ **Silence** , dwarf! I am _tired_ of his attitude and actions! And each of you, trying to defend him! He _must_ learn that his actions have consequences!”, Cassandra yelled angrily at the dwarf, pointing an accusatory finger towards Varric.

A loud clearing of a throat directly next to where Fane was trying to sit up without showing too much pain, had both the Seeker and Varric turning towards him. Fane slowly lifted his gaze to see Solas standing next to him with a discernible red parcel in his hand as well as the arrow it had been attached to. His eyes widened at the sight of the arrow as relief washed over him. He had been right! There was an arrow! 

“I believe your anger should not be directed towards your Herald, Seeker. He was merely _protecting_ himself and me from this arrow.”, Solas stated as he held the piece of metal tipped wood towards the Seeker, his steely eyes glancing down to Fane with a soft smile gracing his lips, “Also, he did not cause me any pain. A minor discomfort since I was not expecting to be thrown to the ground, but nothing serious enough to warrant such a violent confrontation on your part, Seeker. If anything, he deserves praise for such quick reflexes. Well done, Fane.”, Solas finished, the sound of his name sounding strange to Fane’s pointed ears.

Fane’s face went slack with utter relief when he saw that the elven mage was okay and most importantly, not angry with him. What an odd feeling this was for him. He had never cared much for someone’s opinion of him, but seeing that look of gratefulness on Solas’s face.. It made him feel calm and  _ whole _ . He felt..complete. Snowy brows furrowed as he violently shook his head to be rid of the feeling beginning to flood his mind. What was he going on about? He had simply done what anyone with a compassionate thought would have done! That was all. To feel such as emotion as completeness was absurd! 

“Is that..an arrow with a message?”, he heard the now curious, but meek voice of the Seeker as she approached the two elves with Varric right on her heels.

Fane rested his arms on his knees as he watched Solas nod his head once, flipping the small piece of paper open with a flick of his thumb, his stormy gaze still on Fane as the others leaned forward to read the note. He couldn’t will himself to stand at the moment, still coming down from his inexplicable feelings of fear and wholeness. And most importantly, the utter exhaustion that he felt weighing down his body once more. Maybe he could lay down. No one would care, right? 

“Well, it looks like _another_ person wants to meet you, Tempest! Hell of a way to send an invite though..”, he faintly heard Varric address him as his head fell limply between his bent knees.

Another invitation? By arrow? Oh, that was just fantastic. He really _hated_ Orlais. Fane jerked his head up slightly before it slowly went back down, his breath hitching with a snore.

“Fucking..fantastic.., he mumbled out tiredly, trying to feel a hint of rage to pick himself up, but unable to even feel bemused by the whole thing, “Listen..I’m just gonna..lie down..for a sec..”, he mumbled out again before he felt warm arms brace themselves against his back so that he didn’t connect with the ground.

Fane faintly heard an amused chuckle before he succumbed to blissful sleep, feeling his snowy head fall back with a heavy sigh. Whatever the message had said could wait. He needed to sleep. He _wanted_ to sleep.

For once, sleep would be welcome. Welcome amid warm arms and strange emotions as hues of red and blue swam within the black abyss of sleep.


	18. Chapter 17 - Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane finds an unlikely ally amid horrible circumstances. He truly hates Orlais and the apostate who spews logic at him, even if its true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An attempt at a fight scene and some humor! Wow! It's more likely than you think! And I hope I did Sera justice! I always like to picture her more..childish? Like she can be level headed, but primarily she just doesn't give a shit. Fane will find a kindred spirit in her eventually.

“You know, this is _not_ what I expected to be doing when I fucking woke up!!”, Fane bellowed as his heavy leather boot connected with the face of a charging swordsman.

Yes, the last thing he had expected to do, after rising from the _literal_ dead, was to follow up on that poorly delivered arrow message. Fane remembered waking up under a tree that the party had managed to lug him to, since he ‘nicely’ decided to pass out in front of the First Enchanter’s estate. When he had awoken, he felt his head literally pounding in protest as the Seeker had practically _shoved_ the blasted piece of red paper into his tired face. 

“ _Read it.”,_ the Seeker had commanded him plainly, no venom in her tone that time.

However, since Fane had just managed to wake up from one the deepest sleeps he had ever had-he had practically seen utter blackness the entire time- the elf had been a bit slow to process and respond to the command. Always the helpful one, Solas had gently taken the letter from the stern Seeker to crouch down in front of him. Solas had carefully held the piece of paper in front of his face with a patient expression. 

“ _It is apparently from a group called ‘The Friends of Red Jenny’. It may be wise to head to the location on this letter.”_ , Solas had explained to him slowly as the young elf had been still trying to rouse himself from sleep.

Fane had felt a bit amenable after getting some rest, but he had still felt a tinge of irritation towards the suggestion. How else would he react to a letter nearly _impaling_ him and Solas?

“ _And if it’s a trap?”,_ Fane had muttered out as he had rubbed the bridge of his nose to calm his pounding head, voice having been rough from sleep.

Fane would never forget the look of pure, but guarded fondness on the elder’s face as he had taken in Fane’s words as if they were coming from an old friend.

“ _Then I suppose we will have no choice but to deal with the outcome. You must take risks to achieve what you desire, Herald. Even if it endangers your life. Perhaps you may find an ally amidst the treachery.”_

Solas’s somber, but stern words still rang in his ears as another blow of a sword greeted the metal of his own. ‘Must take risks to achieve what you desire’.. Well, he certainly didn’t see how being attacked by..by pantless soldiers would help him achieve closing the Breach! Creators, he could see their..! He growled angrily as he rammed the pommel of his sword into the jaw of a soldier trying to flank him. Blood spewed from the soldier’s nose as Fane pivoted his body to slam the heel of his foot into the staggering man’s gut, sending the fool into a tower of crates. 

“Ooo, that probably hurt ‘im, dinnit!? Nice one, Herald!”, called the voice of the one responsible for this entire problem.

Fane scoffed with disgust as he looked over his shoulder to see the grinning face of the elven woman that had set these events in motion in the first place. This elf..Sera, was it? Sera had been the one to send the party the red letter back in front of the First Enchanter’s estate, and Fane had been ever furious when he heard the truth fall from her lips.

“ **_You_ ** _sent that letter?! On a fucking_ **_arrow_ ** _!?”,_ Fane had bellowed as his eyebrow twitched with restrained fury.

Sera’s reaction hadn’t calmed Fane in any shape or form as the blonde elf merely shrugged her shoulders. 

“ _How_ **_else_ ** _was I supposed to do it? I saw ya in Val Royeaux and I was like ‘Oh no, he looks pissed. Better not right now’! So, I tracked ya to that fancy place and bam! Message received!”,_ Sera had said with pride as she had put her hands on her hips.

If Fane had been a mage at that time, he was sure pure electricity would have been coursing through the air with the tension he had felt coursing through _him_. Sera had nearly taken his head off! _Solas’s_ head off, to be more precise! And she had acted like it wasn’t even a problem! The only thing that had stayed his hand from shoving his sword through the stupid elf’s throat was the bellowing cry of Cassandra as she had alerted the party to the approaching soldiers who had suddenly swarmed the alleyway. And now, here they were neck deep in an unknown enemy! Not how he expected this night to go. Not. At. All.

“Not the Herald.”, Fane responded to Sera’s boisterous response as he came out of his memories, “And tell me _why_ you found it necessary to take their _pants_ and not their _weapons_!?”, he growled out not a second later as he deflected an oncoming arrow with his sword, nearly missing the shaft as it bounced off the metal’s edge.

Fane heard the woosh of an arrow as Sera shot one straight past his head, the ends of his snowy hair swaying minutely from the rush of air. He barely flinched as he continued to glare at the blonde elven woman. This elf was truly crazy, wasn’t she? Sera gave his glare an answering cheeky grin as she came up to poke his freckled cheek, having to reach up to reach it however, which made him jump back a bit.

“ _Because_ , Mr. Grumpso, no _breeches_! Hahaha!”, Sera said as she snorted at her own hijinks.

Fane growled furiously, about to tear into the elf in front of him until his skin crawled with a familiar sensation. **Magic**. There was another mage here. Snowy hair brushed his pale cheeks as he whipped his head around to hone in on the source of the magic he was feeling. Normally, he would have assumed it was Solas’s magic, but it wasn’t the right..the right _feel_. Solas’s magic was precise and tempered, almost like a gliding blade or quick whip. It unnerved him a bit that he could pinpoint Solas’s magic with such ease. However, Fane supposed that familiarity made it useful to keep far enough away so as not to retch onto the ground. But, this magic..this magic was volatile and unsuppressed as if it were feeding off of every bit of the Fade it could snag. Like a glutton at a grand feast. Also, Fane saw Solas just across the way attending to a minor gash the Seeker had sustained during the worst of the fighting. It wasn’t him. It was someone _else_. Fane felt his head begin to pound as his stomach bubbled with discomfort as a blast of fire zoomed past his face, just nearly missing the tip of his sharp nose. Ah, _there_ was the magic. He heard Sera let out a screech as another bolt of flame was shot at her feet before she growled with rage. He raised an eyebrow at that. Well, well. The little shit had some seriousness in her after all. Wonder of wonders. The soft tap of boots had Fane turning his head, spotting the figure of a human as he conjured flame in the palm of his hand once more. Yup. There he was. A _mage_ in all his glory. Disgusting.

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to find this little meeting place? I bet it cost your organization a pretty penny!”, the masked mage bellowed proudly, the air around him fizzling with unrestrained magic.

Fane grimaced as the crackling of magic made his mark flare dimly, the scent of ozone kissing his nostrils as he gagged slightly. Damn, this mage smelled _terrible_. More specifically, his _magic_ smelled terrible. It smelled like charred skin and cedar. Not a good mix at all. Fane swallowed back the rising bile in his throat as he heard his other three companions come up behind him, ready to fight if need be. The mage only grinned more at the sight of them all. Fane kind of thought the man looked..pleased? Creators, was he one of those disgusting humans that got off on receiving pain or inflicting it? If so, Fane would have fun quartering him into a million little pieces of pink flesh.

“ **_Not_ ** the Herald.”, Fane repeated his statement from earlier, his eyes narrowing as the moonlight glinted off golden flecks, “Also, _I_ wasn’t the one to find you. It was that _thing_ over there.”, he finished as his leather gloved hand pointed towards Sera who was giving a look that said ‘What did you just call me?!”.

The mage barked out a mocking laugh as he readied his magical flame once more, rearing his body back to thrust it directly at Fane. The smell intensified as the flame became hotter, making Fane have to spit onto the ground as some vomit escaped. He could feel Cassandra, Sera, and Varric looking at him with curious gazes, but _obviously_ , he could distinctly feel Solas watching him with concern. Unfortunately, the mage caught his little action and his sadistic grin only grew wider. Dammit. He screwed up with that little trick.

“What’s this? Is the fabled Herald of Andraste _scared_ of magic?!”, the mage barked out with a laugh, his flame flickering with the unstable emotion.

Fane schooled his features as he watched the mage cackle. How dare this mage even assume such a thing! Just because this little man had primal forces at his command, didn't mean shit. Fane was a primal force with just his _body_. He could flatten this human with just his _boot_ if he wanted to. As the mage took deep breaths to calm his laughing, Fane could feel his mind disconnecting from his emotions as his expression drew deadpan. This mage was boring him. And sickening him, both mentally and physically. He needed to _die._ With a tentative step forward, Fane pulled his sword out of its sheath, hardening his eyes into glassy jade. The mage jumped back at his approach, readying his magic once more. This time, Fane managed to drown out the smell even as his stomach reacted to it. It would be over soon. Then he could take that potion Solas made him. First though..

“You think I’m scared of your little cantrip? Perish the thought.”, he said flatly, glancing back for a brief second to motion with his eyes for Varric and Sera to find high ground.

Thankfully, Varric caught onto Fane’s little signal and tugged on Sera’s arm to follow. Fane faintly heard the elven woman utter curses and questions before she went willingly. Good. As much as Fane wanted to rip this pathetic man limb from limb himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. He needed to merely distract. Not how he usually does things, but he was still exhausted from the previous few days, so he would use Sera and Varric to get the job done. The blank faced elf took another single step towards the haughty mage. The man narrowed his eyes at him, trying to figure out what the hell he was planning, most likely. A shaky laugh reached Fane’s pointed ears as he saw the mage’s body stiffened with wariness. Even though the man wore a mask that covered half his face, Fane could use his body language as a key. And the mage’s body language was that of a deer that was cornered; meek, but trying to feign strength. Isn’t it fitting that Fane considered himself the wolf in that moment. A merciless, ravenous wolf. 

“Well, you should be scared! Because my efforts against you will-?!”, the mage’s words were cut off as Fane grabbed the human’s jaw forcefully, clamping the palm over his mouth firmly.

Fane stared blankly at the man as he tried to wretch himself free of the elf’s strong grip. It was honestly kind of amusing every time a human would squirm in his grasp. It was the rush of adrenaline, that momentary feeling of _power_ , that he craved against those who tormented the lesser of them. A deep growl sounded from his chest as he yanked the mage forward with his grasp alone.

“Again, I am _not_ afraid. I will **never** be frightened of your kind. No..”, he hissed out, his mask of stoicism falling for a moment as fury flashed across his pale face, “I am **_sick_ ** of you. **Sick** of your magic and bravado. Look. You can't even fry me when I'm right in front of you with how unstable you are. **Pathetic**.”, Fane finished with an even more venomous hiss.

With a harsh shove, Fane threw the mage to the ground as nausea washed over him. A tight grimace marred his face as he spit onto the ground once more. That momentary reconnection of his emotions having started up his sense of smell as well. With a lazy wave of two fingers, Fane motioned for Sera and Varric, the knocking of a single arrow reaching his ears. 

“So, save the theatrics. I don’t need answers from _you_. Not worth my time.”, Fane muttered out as he swallowed back more bile.

The soaring sound of an arrow registered for but a moment before he heard the solid _thunk_ of it entering the mage’s skull. As the heavy body hit the stone pavement, Fane let out a heavy sigh, feeling the nausea wash throughout his entire body as he scrambled to open his pouch. 

“Potion..potion..”, he muttered to himself quickly, feeling cool glass touch his bare fingers.

There it was. Okay, he just had to calm his shaking enough to hold the damned thing. Easy. Fane carefully extracted the potion from his pouch, twisting the cork off the mouth of the glass before downing the liquid in one desperate gulp. He threw the glass onto the ground afterwards, panting softly as he felt his body finally relax as the bitter liquid did its ‘magic’. As his labored breathing calmed, Fane reached up to rub at his temples with one hand, the pain ebbing away, but the pressure still remained. Well, he supposed it was better than nothing. 

“You good, kid? What was _that_ about?”, he heard Varric’s gruff voice as he looked down at the dwarf tiredly.

Was he okay? Fane didn’t think he’d ever be ‘okay’. If anything, he was tolerable of himself and his issues. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Fane rolled his tongue around cheek to cheek as the bitter taste lingered in his mouth.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s a problem of my own. Not your concern.”, Fane answered the concerned dwarf dismissively as he glanced over his shoulder to glare tiredly at the stoic Seeker who was watching him with a calculating gaze, “Or yours. So, don’t even _start_ with me.”, he finished curtly as he turned back around, throwing his emerald glare to the whistling elven woman as she twirled around without a care in the world.

It was time to figure out what the hell this girl wanted. First, she nearly killed him and one of his companions-is that what he considered Solas? Guess so.-, then she unknowingly walked them right into an ambush! Or was it knowingly? Argh, he needed answers! Sera stopped her twirling as she caught sight of Fane’s dark glare and grinned as she skipped towards him. 

“Woooow! Are ya **sure** you’re an elf?! You’re like..talllll!”, Sera said with wonder, motioning to his body with an arm to accentuate her point of his height, “And your hair is like all..bam! Bright! And your **eyes** are like two different colors! And you’re not even spindly or something! You’re built like a **wall**!”, the elf continued with even more awe, reaching up to try and touch his hair.

Fane leaned back immediately, growling in warning as he continued to glare down at the spunky woman. So she was one of _those_ people. The kind that had to point out every little thing even if it was obvious.

“Firstly, **don’t** touch me. Secondly, yes, I am an elf in case you missed the ears and the blighted tattoos on my face. Thirdly, stop pointing out the obvious. Everyone can see what I look like without _you_ shouting it out. Finally, how about you start explaining what the hell you want?”, Fane said plainly, irritation at this woman’s childishness rising.

Sera snorted in amusement at his attitude as her face puckered in concentration. Oh, what now?! Fane seriously wasn’t in the mood for this tonight. First, he passed out in front of a mage’s house, then he almost got shot in the head, and now he’s had to deal with potentially vomiting all over the place while dealing with an excuse for an adult! Could he just please get back to Haven? That’s _all_ he wanted!

“Are ya one of those ‘elfy’ elves? Like that old fart over there? I mean, you’re Dalish, right?”, Sera asked as she pointed at Solas, who looked just as bemused as Fane felt. 

Fane rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms across his chest. Why was that a concern for her? Did it matter in the grand scheme of things? It’s not like he went around spewing ancient lore like a fountain nor did he preach about his ‘gods’. If anything he was _less_ elfy than this..this thing. 

“I’m _just_ an elf.”, he said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Sera’s jaw went slack as she flailed her arms. 

“ _She’s like Mhairi, in that regard..”_ , Fane thought with minor amusement as he watched the elven woman, feeling a bit of longing at the thought of his sister.

Sera stopped her flailing as she leaned up to give him a scrutinizing gaze. Fane leaned back again, since the elf was literally in his face. What was this woman’s deal?

“But ya got those tattoos! The valla-whatever!”, Sera helpfully pointed out which made him want to bash his head in.

Fane pinched the bridge of his nose as a huff of hot air escaped his nostrils. Yes, he had vallaslin. Oh, boy, what a horrible thing! Honestly, his tattoos had been a means to an end. He didn’t choose them to honor gods he didn’t even believe in. He chose them because he wanted to cover up his face. The pain, the noticeable features of his cheekbones that were his father’s, and the color of his two tone eyes. They had been to mask, not to openly honor. Unfortunately, they hadn't even been able to do that small kindness for him. If anything, the dark green tattoos overly accentuated _everything_. His eyes were brighter, his cheekbones sharper, and the pain was still plastered on his face if he was vulnerable. If he could be rid of them, then he would. Gladly. He should probably feel bad about that type of thinking, but he didn't consider himself Dalish or even an elf. He was merely Fane. Nothing more. He didn't like racial labels being smacked onto him like it was the only thing there, even if he did do it to other races. That was merely how he was. 

“Vallaslin. They’re called _vallaslin_ .”, he explained in exasperation before lowering his hand from his nose to glare weakly at the elven girl as she rolled his eyes, “And I don’t see how this matters. **I** shouldn’t be the one explaining myself! **You** should be! Start from the beginning.”, he finished with a flick of his hand, grimacing in agitation.

Sera hummed with thought before grinning as she put her hands on her hips with a short nod of her head, choppy blonde hair jerking at the movement. Fane swore she probably cut it with a dagger with how haphazard it was. Then again, he did the same thing with his own hair. It was merely easier than getting someone else to do it.

“Ya already know my name is Sera! I sent that letter because I can help! Me and my friends! The Friends of Red Jenny! They’re the real people who helped me find _that_ guy!”, Sera proclaimed as she pointed back at the impaled mage.

Fane raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at Varric, who merely shrugged with a hopeless expression. This woman was a part of an organization? Was she the leader or something?

“Don’t look at me, Tempest. I’ve no idea.”, Varric muttered to him as the dwarf shoved his hands in his coat pockets, having no answers to Fane’s silent questions.

Fane fixed his hard emerald gaze back on Sera as she stood there with a triumphant grin. Hmph, he really didn’t like that look. It was as if the cheeky elf was up to no good. He had a feeling that was _all_ she got up to.

“So.. _who_ was he?”, Fane asked with a quick glance at the bloody mage, tightening his grip on his sleeves as he caught a whiff of magic and blood.

Sera barely noticed his discomfort as the archer shrugged her shoulders dramatically.

“Dunno. My people just said he was better off dead.”, Sera responded nonchalantly.

This time, Fane did physically turn to a stone pillar and let his head thump against it softly. He heard Varric let out a snort of amusement before coughing around it to clear his throat. He also heard the dual exasperated sighs of Solas and Cassandra at the female elf’s comment. She didn’t know who this.. Of course she didn’t! Maybe he _should_ have let the blighted mage finish _before_ they killed him!

“You mean to tell me..we just fought breech-less soldiers and a haughty mage for no reason based purely on hearsay?”, Fane growled out as he continued to ground his head into the stone.

Sera’s responding cackle had Fane wanting to dig a deep, _deep_ hole in the ground and just die. Now he remembered why he hated being around his own kind even more than humans. They were either full of themselves or batshit insane.

“Not for _no_ reason, Grumpy! Listen, _a lot_ of people wanted this guy muzzled! I just dunno _why_ ! Does it matter? He’s gone! No more threat to you or anyone else!”, Sera said simply with a grin, “Also, it was a good laugh! _And_ I got paid!”, she added on with an even bigger grin.

Fane groaned as he felt his back slump in defeat, his knees buckling slightly as he slid partly down the pillar with his forehead still resting against it. He just wanted to leave. Leave and never come back to this ugly place.

“Yeah, such _fun_ . Then, I assume you’re leaving?”, he asked, his voice muffled against the stone, “ _Please, please. Just fucking leave..”_ , he thought in the next moment, practically pleading for an end to this insanity.

Sera’s boisterous laugh had Fane squeezing his eyes shut with an audible groan this time. There would be no end, would there? Apparently not for him. Never for him.

“While that’s _usually_ how it works, it won’t work that way this time! I wanna _help_ this uh..Inquisition! Yeah!”, Sera announced enthusiastically. 

Fane could cry right now. Truly. Not from sadness nor from joy. No, he could cry from just the sheer _dread_ burrowing into his gut. She wanted to help? Help the Inquisition?! Oh, that was rich! When did he become a damned recruiter?! Solas’s words from earlier on in the night rang in his ears, ‘ _You can find an ally amidst the treachery’_. So this is what the elder man meant. Why doesn’t that make Fane feel any better? If anything, he’s feeling sick again.. 

“Hey, old man?”, Fane growled out against the stone as his thoughts turned their agitation to the elven mage, hearing a laugh from Sera and Varric at his term for Solas.

Emerald eyes peeked from the stone to see disapproving stormy ones, probably from his lovely nickname. Solas simply leveled him with that look as Fane stared back with a scowl. Oo, that look made Fane's blood boil. Why? He doesn't really know, but it did! Oh, how it did..

“ _Yes_ , Herald?”, Solas responded after several moments with an exasperated tone as the mage pinched the bridge of his nose, the events of the last several days probably wearing on the calm man as well.

Fane sighed heavily as he knocked his head against the stone once more. He felt bile rising in his throat as his shoulders shuddered slightly. 

“I fucking **hate** you.”, Fane managed to ground out before liquid bile exited from his stomach, splattering on the stone foundation with a sickening, wet sound.


	19. Chapter 18 - Welcome in Strange Corners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendly drink turns into an enlightening discussion for Fane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to wholesome hours with everyone's favorite dwarf! Remember, Varric will always have your back, no matter what. Supportive Varric for everyone! *throws flowers in the air*  
> If anything, this is just a short little interlude from all the tension. A way for me to delve into Fane's relationships with other members. But we'll be jumping right back into the pain in the next chapter! Just a bit though. A lot of the angst in this story won't be until the next installment. This is just me laying out Fane's character for everyone. Honestly, I'm still adding little bits and pieces as I go to him. I love taking a base character and just molding them. It's just so much fun to integrate your own thoughts and feelings into an avatar. It helps to connect you with your character so that you can enjoy the experience even more!

Fane was honestly surprised when no one, not even Cassandra, had pressed him about vomiting everywhere in that alleyway. There had been confused and concerned gazes, but maybe they just thought he was tired? Did people puke when they were exhausted? Possibly. After he had managed to get his stomach settled, Solas having helped him even though Fane had literally told the man that he hated him not even three seconds before retching, the party finally made their way back to Haven. 

Never in his life had Fane felt such utter _relief_ about arriving in a specific area. However, the relief instantly faded when Varric practically dragged him to the tavern like he was a sack of potatoes. The minute they had entered the loud and obnoxious place filled with Inquisition soldiers, who were carrying on like the world wasn’t ending, Fane had felt the tell tale signs of an impending headache as Varric forced him to sit down before hurrying off to get their drinks. He had thought of running at that moment, but the dwarf was fast. Way too fucking fast. That still boggled Fane’s mind. 

“You agreed to this, Tempest! Don’t tell me you forgot!”, Varric exclaimed as the dwarf slammed a mug of ale down in front of his agitated face.

Fane scowled at the liquid as he leaned back in the tavern chair with his arms crossed. He _had_ agreed to the dwarf’s invitation of a drink, but he didn’t think it would happen the second they got back! Fane had endeavored to immediately run off into the nearest clearing to get out his pent up rage, not socialize! 

“I didn’t forget, dwarf. I just hadn’t expected you to literally jump me.”, he voiced his agitated thoughts aloud as he leaned forward to sniff at the thick amber ale, making a face between interested and disinterested.

Varric let out a laugh as he sat down in his own chair, taking a swig of his ale without hesitation. Fane made a face at the sight. Well, he supposed Varric _was_ a dwarf even if he really didn’t _act_ like one.

“I don’t think I jumped you, really. Just a..friendly push!”, Varric said with a large grin.

Fane rolled his eyes as he finally reached over to grab the mug with one hand, giving it one last scowl before taking a large gulp. As he felt the burn of the alcohol, Fane let out a somewhat pleased sigh as he leaned back once more. The ale wasn’t too bad, surprisingly. The taste was a bit too rich for him, but the burn was enough for him to want to keep drinking. When Fane drank, that was what he was looking for; the burn. That stinging, itching, dry feeling as wet liquid slid down your throat. It was such a contradiction of textures that Fane always found himself craving a decent drink. Getting piss drunk was merely a bonus. Not that cheap tavern ale would get him properly drunk, though.

“Pretty weak.”, Fane mused as he tilted the mug with a disappointed glare.

A rowdy laugh had Fane startling slightly, his drink sloshing around dangerously. Varric coughed around his own drink as he laughed, pounding on his chest to calm himself.

“Maker’s _breath_ , you and he are practically the _same_ person!”, Varric told him as he continued to laugh.

Fane raised a snowy eyebrow from over the rim of his mug as he took another large swig. Same as _who_? Wait..was the dwarf talking about what he had said when he first started pestering Fane? Honestly, Fane couldn’t really remember anymore with everything that had happened these last few days. 

“Can you make sense, Varric? I’m getting a headache from this deduction bullshit everyone expects me to do.”, Fane said with a clipped tone, pinching the bridge of his nose roughly.

Varric chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, throwing his boots up on the table which got him a quiet glare from Flissa, the tavern keep, but the dwarf merely waved at her with a smile. 

“Calm down, Tempest. I get the hint! So, that guy I mentioned like a week back? Well, he’s a friend of Hawke’s. Actually, they’re lovers. Pretty sickening at times, too.”, Varric said with a wide grin which told Fane he wasn’t actually disgusted with the relationship.

Fane took another sip of his ale as he narrowed his eyes at the rogue, furrowing his snowy eyebrows in confusion. This dwarf sure liked to beat around the bush, didn’t he? He supposed that’s what storytellers do, though. They say a thousand words where only a few would suffice.

“Okay? And? I don’t see how this links me with your friend.”, Fane questioned, feeling his irritation rising.

Varric held up a finger as he took another drink before slamming it down with a grin. Fane deadpanned as he let his head fall back against the hard headrest of his chair. This was gonna take all night, wasn’t it? 

“Hold on, Heraldness! I’m getting there! Anyways, my friend is an elf from Tevinter. His name’s Fenris. And I’m not shitting you when I say you’re _just_ like him. You both have this whole angsty thing going on, snow white hair, prickly tempers, the whole nine yards! What you just said about the ale being weak is literally what he would say every time our group would gather at the Hanged Man..”, Varric explained with a slightly pained expression.

Fane raised an eyebrow at that as he finished off his ale, crossing his legs as he gave the dwarf a curious stare. He had to admit, this was interesting. An elf just like him, huh? Or is he just like this elf? He supposed those were ultimately the same thing. Fane found himself wanting to find out more about this friend of Varric’s which was unnerving him a bit. Maybe he was making more steps? Only one way to find out.

“I see. I’m guessing this is why you keep seeking me out then? Because I remind you of him?”, Fane said plainly, gripping the sleeves of his coat as his head throbbed steadily.

He honestly wouldn’t be offended if that _was_ the case for Varric. Everyone reminds someone of someone else. It was unavoidable with the plethora of different personalities in the world. Some just mixed together to create similar people. Maybe that’s why he felt the way he did with Solas. Fane growled as his thoughts delved into unwelcome territory. He didn’t want to think about those feelings right now. The feelings of longing, familiarity, and the need to protect. He just wanted to drink and actually..talk with this dwarf. Fane caught the movement of Varric shaking his head as the dwarf gave him a friendly smile.

“You may remind me of him, Tempest, but that’s not why I badger you. I badger you because I find you interesting. I’ve known a lot of Dalish elves and none of them are anything like you. And truthfully, I’m happy about that. It makes you easier to approach because I don’t have to worry about offending you about your gods or whatever.”, Varric said as he waved down Flissa for another round of drinks.

Fane sat there with his mouth slightly agape at Varric’s words. He was..approachable? Interesting? No one has _ever_ used those terms to describe him before. Usually, it was just fear and wariness. No one ever wanted to approach him in fear of making him angry. They were wary because they knew what he could do if he _was_ angry. It was just a continuous cycle of pain and disappointment. Fane knew he was the one to make people feel that way, but he didn’t _enjoy_ pushing people away. He just felt it was a necessary sacrifice to keep himself protected. He didn’t know how to feel about Varric’s genuine curiosity. It was something new for him. As Flissa put their drinks down, Fane leaned forward to attempt a more open posture which made Varric look at him in pleased shock.

“Well, you’re right that I don’t _act_ like a Dalish elf. That’s because I don’t _consider_ myself to be Dalish. I’m just..”, he shrugged, feeling self conscious all of a sudden, “I’m just Fane. Always have been. An overly large, angry, and brash elf that’s welcome nowhere.”, he finished with a self deprecating chuckle, leaning back to take a drink from his freshly filled mug.

Fane glanced off in the direction of the tavern’s fireplace to stare into the gentle flames, his pointed ears twitching at the sound of a lute being strummed. That’s right. He was an odd excuse for an elf that couldn’t find a home among his own people. He was crude, short tempered, and intolerable. Snowy white hair, two toned eyes, and a build that was unlike his people. It made Fane think he truly was what the Lord Seeker had said he’d been; a demon. Maybe that’s what his father had done to him. Stuck an infernal demon in him and that’s what those whispers were. But even that theory felt weak to Fane. It couldn’t be that simple. I _wouldn’t_ be. No, whatever his father did reshaped him into something..not of this age. Something ancient. Something that was him, but not him at the same time. It made his head throb even more just thinking about the possibilities. 

“You’re welcome within my corner anytime, Tempest.”, Varric’s encouraging, but serious tone filled his pointed ears.

Fane turned his head back to the rogue with a curious expression, tilting his head slightly in question. 

“I..am? Why?”, Fane questioned, truly puzzled by this dwarf’s friendliness.

Varric smiled wide at his question as the dwarf took a swig of his ale, cheeks beginning to turn slightly pink.

“We all have stories to tell. Pasts we want to be left in the past. Some are happy, some are sad. That’s life. I don’t judge people solely on what they’ve done in life, but what they do in the _present_. You, Tempest, have given me no reason not to trust you. Yeah, you have some anger issues, but that’s normal. Do you have secrets? Sure! We all do. And do I expect you to tell me them _all_ right off the bat? Hell no! Especially when you’ve been pushed into a position that you never wanted by people you yourself have no reason to trust. But even through all the screaming and protesting, you’ve still tried to do what you can. That makes you a-okay in my book.”, Varric said with a bright smile, rocking back and forth on the leg of his chair.

Fane was speechless. When he’d been toted here, he hadn’t expected such..encouraging words. And from Varric, no less! From what Fane had gathered from his short interactions with the dwarf, Varric tried to keep his nose out of people’s business unless he saw worth in it. However, Varric was actually proving he observed more than Fane originally thought he did. Maybe Solas had been right. Varric understood his emotions were..natural. That they were _understandable_. Fane felt his chest tighten with warmth as he left out an amused huff of air through his nose.

“You are an odd dwarf.”, Fane finally said with a shake of his head.

Varric let out a loud, boisterous laugh at that as he slammed a large hand onto the table before coughing for the ale that went down the wrong pipe. Fane merely watched with blank amusement as he looked down into the amber liquid still in his mug. 

Maybe he was welcome in this strange place. If only for the moment.


	20. Chapter 19 - The Fault Lies in Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane and Cassandra clear the air between them, if only for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love a good talk, right? Fane's very much a hippy in some respect. He's not like Snow White or any of that happy shit, but he respects the world around him. And yes, Fane does refer to most people as 'creatures' because he doesn't consider himself belonging to any race even if he is biologically an elf. No kinship, no belong. He's just Fane. *shrugs* It also ties in with his father. There's a plethora of reasons why Fane has these feelings. Each one will slowly reveal with time.   
> And by no means does this mean Cassandra and Fane won't butt heads. They will. Trust me.  
> In my playthrough, Fane just never saw eye to eye with Cass. Her approval was always meh. So, I expanded on that with the arguments and distrust. I mean, if you listen to some of the old, cut voice lines from the beginning of the game, Cassandra is waaaay more paranoid and accusing of your Inquisitor. I honestly liked it better. Shame they decided to take it out. But that's what fanfiction is for!  
> Also, Fane's way of speaking does shift a lot. Normally, he'll speak more calculated and measured when he's calm. It's when he's irritated or angry that he just spews things out without much thought. Again, its a tie into what exactly Fane's father wanted to achieve with the experiments.

Fane was a little disappointed that he hadn’t managed to get drunk the night before. It would have given him a good excuse to not have to deal with the Seeker the next day. Then again, he did have plenty of other aches and pains that he could feign as something else, but doing that didn’t sit right with him. His body may have always been in a constant state of agony, but Fane never used that as a crutch. His agony was borne of unknown ambition, not of greatness. If his scars were from battles and what have you, then Fane would have proudly displayed them for the world to see, but they weren’t badges of honor. They were badges of bitter resentment. Badges of dark, dark madness. 

Surprisingly, however, the ale had made him feel numb enough the night before to get a good relative amount of sleep. He still woke up having to retch into a basin, one that Solas had helpfully supplied him with, but overall he felt pretty..decent. Odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt okay-ish. Maybe the discussion with Varric had raised his spirits more than Fane originally thought. Maybe. Unfortunately, with the way Cassandra was glowering at him as Fane sat with his sword in his lap, sharpening the edge with a whetstone, he had a feeling his momentary happiness would plummet like an eagle. The white haired elf scowled slightly as he felt the silent woman staring at him as he pointedly focused on his blade. 

Up, turn, down, flick. 

Up, turn, down, flick. 

Up, turn, down, flick.

He tried to ignore the feeling of dread as his mind helpfully sounded off each movement of his hand as it guided the whetstone along the metal. Caring for his equipment was the one thing Fane found peace in. He wouldn’t let the Seeker take even that from him with an argument. 

Up, turn, down, flick.

Up, turn, down, flick.

All Fane heard for the moment was the metal scraping gently across the rough surface of his whetstone, the sounds of the blacksmith behind him as he sat on a crate just outside of Harritt’s workspace. It wasn’t until Cassandra loudly cleared her throat that Fane’s tempo was disrupted, the whetstone chipping the metal slightly. 

“Dammit.”, he muttered in irritation, running a thumb into the chip to see how deep it had gone.

Fane tilted the sword down to inspect its edge, emerald eyes narrowing as he did so. He didn’t care if the Seeker wanted his attention right now. He was busy. He was relaxing. He wasn’t going to stop just because she wanted to bark at him some more. Unsatisfied with the sharpness, Fane resumed his delicate tempo with metal and stone.

Up, turn, down, flick.

Up, turn, down, flick.

“You have a very interesting method of sharpening your blade.”, Cassandra’s terse tone came from above.

Fane’s tempo broke once more, but this time he managed to not chip the metal as he let out an irritated growl. Could he not be left in peace for five seconds? 

“Interesting to you, perhaps. It’s how my clan’s blacksmith taught me. You risk chipping the metal, but if you do it right, it’ll leave you with a far sharper edge.”, he explained flatly, running a rag with sword oil along the glistening edge slowly.

He didn’t really know why he was explaining this to the Seeker. As if she would find his clan’s techniques useful. She was human. Humans had their own backwards ways of doing things, just as he did. Fane drew the sword down once more to scan the edge with one golden emerald eye before humming in approval.

“Good enough. I’ll fix the dent later.”, he murmured to himself, still sensing the Seeker standing near him.

Fane sighed heavily as he let his blade lay in his lap, finally looking up with an exasperated glare.

“So, _what_ do you want?”, he asked, scowling in irritation.

If the Seeker was here to scold him about yet another thing then, Fane wouldn’t hear it. He had enough fighting to last a lifetime in Orlais. He needed a break before anymore. Especially with them due to head back out into the field in a day or two. More rifts to close, more people to cry at him. His mind needed time to empty before dealing with both. Cassandra’s eyes were hard with questions and disapproval both. Questions to his actions in Orlais, perhaps? And disapproval for..what exactly, he wondered. Fane could probably list a few things the Seeker disapproved of when it came to him. 

“I wish to speak to you. Privately.”, Cassandra told him, her voice even and slow.

Fane raised a snowy eyebrow at that. She wanted to speak? Not yell or belittle him? Hmph. That was surprisingly unexpected. With a heavy sigh, Fane slipped his sword into its sheath effortlessly before standing up with a small grunt.

“Fine. Lead the way.”, he grumbled with an unreadable expression.

He might as well let the Seeker say her piece. Normally, Fane would brush the taciturn woman off with a snarl and wave of his hand, but maybe the ale he drank last night was still coursing through his system to make him so amenable. Or maybe he was just tired. He was always tired. Cassandra nodded her head at him before turning on her heel to lead him along the dirt path that led past the blacksmith’s hut. Fane’s emerald eyes scanned the landscape as he followed behind the Seeker, spotting a few rich deposits of ore and herbs, making a mental note to come back for them later. Haven was groaning under the weight from the lack of supplies and muscle, so the least he could do was attempt lessening that load. He had plenty of muscle, at the very least. Locating supplies wasn’t hard either, as long as you knew where to look. As the silence permeated the area between the snowy haired elf and the Seeker, Fane hummed to himself in thought.

“Maybe I should go hunting.”, he muttered absently as he heard the Seeker come to a stop.

Cassandra turned to face him then, her face downturned in an expression of genuine confusion.

“What?”, the Seeker asked when he finally looked at her with a mild glare.

Fane continued to glare quietly at the woman before motioning with his chin to the groups of rams just across the icy lake. This whole area was teeming with wildlife, he found that out exceedingly quick. Honestly, he was surprised no one deemed it necessary to gather furs and meat in this desolate place. He supposed faith was more important to these people. How utterly predictable. 

“I said I should go hunting. There’s an overabundance of animals here. Multipurpose, too. Strip the body of the fur to make blankets or insulation for armor and clothing. Use the horns and hooves for potential potions or weapons. And utilize the meat for food and rations. You can cure most of it for the long term if you have a dry enough place.”, Fane rattled off everything with precision befitting a hunter.

Hunting was more of an extravagant hobby for him than a job. Fane was always the first to volunteer to track herds for the clan. Not only did it get him away from all the wary, fearful looks of his clan members, but it also allowed him time to traverse the forest. To relish in its serenity and colors. Fane found _peace_ among the foliage and curious animals. The forest and mountains always welcomed him with open arms. It was not frightened of him, even as he would unleash his anger out on it. It took it, and it tamed it in the moment until he lost control once more. Emerald eyes continued to track the movement of the lazily romping rams as they grazed at the snow covered grass. He missed the way Cassandra was staring at him, a mix of surprise and confusion in her brown eyes.

“I believe the Commander sent a few men out the other day, but they came back empty handed. Save for a few sparse rabbits and nugs.”, Cassandra stated calmly, actually conversing with him for once.

Fane tore his gaze away from the small herd as he fixed it back on the human woman. Now, that Fane truly looked at her, he could see that the Seeker was..tired. He could see exhaustion in the posture of her shoulders and a deep well of uncertainty and regret in her deep brown eyes. Fane could also see that her usual snarl was replaced by a defeated frown. Overall, he could tell the Seeker was finished. But with what exactly? Him? That wouldn’t be surprising. Maybe that’s why she wanted to speak with him? To cut him loose. Say he wasn’t ‘Inquisition’ material, even though Fane knew that was but a dream. He’d be leashed here until the Breach was sealed, and there was no point fighting that fact any longer. Perhaps, they both now understood that. 

“If you want, I can track. Using bait might be easier, but it isn’t right. You have to respect the area in which you hunt. For this was their home before anyone else’s. Therefore, you act as a guest, not a resident. You play by their natural rules. You hunt, not reap.”, Fane explained calmly, crossing his arms with an unusually calm look on his face.

Fane watched as Cassandra’s expression displayed genuine intrigued as the human woman tilted her head slightly. Well, this was interesting. To think he’d actually be able to converse like a civil being with someone he had so far adamantly refused. Another step? Maybe.

“You..have an interesting view on the world. Not abnormal, by any means. However, I did not expect..”, Cassandra started as her dark brows furrowed.

Fane knew what she was thinking. She did not believe he held such respect in his person. There were a lot of things Fane disrespected, of course. His people, his ‘gods’, humans, himself. The list went on for ages. But did that mean he had _no_ respect for _anything_ ? No. If anything, the list of things he respected went onto far many more pages than things he disrespected. He respected nature, the symbiotic order of the word, the earth under his boots, the air he breathed, the animals he ate and wore. He respected the nature of those animals, their instincts, their purpose, their obliviousness to the machinations of self aware creatures. He respected the physical and raw aspect of the _world_. Not the selfish creatures that lived within its sphere. Fane sighed softly as he kicked a small rock towards the frozen lake.

“You did not expect me, of all people, to have such views. I can understand that. I respect this _world_ in its raw state. I don’t respect the _beings_ within it. Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari.. They have given me no reason thus far to respect them. Humans have **punished** my people for nothing but a need for independence. Elves have **shunned** me as a monster and an outsider simply because of my rage and body. Dwarves have **swindled** me and many others out of a need for greed and avarice. And Qunari simply wish to spread their **control** , and I have never done well with control or command. I do not _care_ for these creatures, just as they do not care for me. So, I do not bother with them, and in turn, they do not bother me. Plain and simple.”, Fane explained somberly, gripping the sleeves of his black bear hide coat.

Cassandra’s expression turned from intrigue to plain wonder as she stared at him with wide brown eyes. Were his words truly that odd? Perhaps coming from a calmer him, yes. Normally, rage would induce these types of rants, but not this time. He truly didn’t understand himself these days. Flitting from one emotion to the next. He was probably already insane, not just going. Cassandra cleared her throat before sighing heavily, her usually squared shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I am sorry.”, the Seeker apologized quietly, her eyes downcast.

Fane felt the air leave him for a moment before blinking with a slight cough. Did she just..? She did, didn’t she? He should have felt smug with satisfaction, but instead he just felt..numb. As if all his pent up rage and resentment had suddenly left his body. And the next words to leave his mouth, were not ones he usually found himself saying.

“No, **I** am sorry.”, Fane muttered tiredly, rubbing his face with a gloved hand.

Cassandra’s head snapped up before she furrowed her brow in confusion. Fane merely stared at her with tired, exhausted emerald eyes. He didn’t want to continue to fight. He has had to fight for so many years. Against battles both real and unreal. He didn’t need another on top of all that. Perhaps, it was time to merely come to a mutual agreement. That while they may not ever be ‘friends’, they could cooperate for the remainder of this endeavor. 

“You have no need to apologize, Herald. I was unfair to you. There is so much pressure riding on us all, and I unjustly forced the brunt of that onto you simply because of your mark. I have been expecting you to comply without question, just as I was so sure that you were responsible.”, Cassandra explained with a tired voice, “I have always been brash and quick to judge solely on what I see before me. I do not see the point of wasting time when a solution is right in front of me. I sometimes find my actions being guided by emotion or faith, so I assume everyone should feel as I do. It was never my intention to belittle your concerns or what you yourself believe..”, the Seeker continued with a pained expression.

Fane listened with attentiveness as the Seeker unloaded her pent up feelings, seeing a slight tremor in her shoulders. He felt the sight making him feel guilty. Had he truly concerned the Seeker this much? Why? He was a means to an end. He was no one special. However, did Cassandra truly see him as what people assumed? A Herald? A savior? Or did she..hope for that? Did his heated, brutal words rip down those guarded hopes? Had he unknowingly torn down her faith as he had accused _her_ of doing to _him_ ? From the look of saddened defeat in the Seeker’s gaze, Fane knew that had been _precisely_ what he had done. He was truly as cruel as his father, wasn’t he? He always ran head on into conclusions without hearing every side of a story. He supposed he and the Seeker were the same in that regard, weren’t they? With an amused huffed through his nostrils, Fane let his snowy head droop with a tired chuckle.

“No, everything you said to me back in Orlais was the truth. A truth I have been running from for a very, very long time. I _am_ a child because I was never _allowed_ to be one.”, he started, feeling fear seize him for a moment at the human woman's curious gaze, “Perhaps, that is but _one_ cause of my unquenchable rage. I hold such bitter resentment in my heart for this broken world that I unfairly lash out at the people within it. I have been met with deafening silence for what’s felt like forever. And I have adapted so much to it that I now crave its stillness. I do not share such unshakable faith, such as you do. My faith was burnt to ash many, _many_ years ago. That is why I respect the laws of the _natural_ world because they are the one immutable constant. It will never be silent. It will always stay just the same. However, that does not mean I have the right to sunder yours or demean it. So, you have no reason to apologize to me when I have met every blow with one of my own.”, Fane finished with a heavy sigh, looking up into the noon high sky.

Fane could feel an unbearable weight being slightly lifted from his battered shoulders as he let his words fall out unrestrained. He never knew how good it felt to merely explain. To converse without fury and spite. It was..amazingly effective. He heard a low chuckle reach his ears as he slowly tilted his head back down from the sky. Cassandra was managing a tiny smirk as she looked at him.

“It seems we have much more in common than we both thought. Both brash and stubborn warriors with passions so different, but yet so similar. We are both oddly interesting people, aren’t we?”, Cassandra said with a lightheartedness that Fane wasn’t used to witnessing.

Fane managed a strained laugh at that as he uncrossed his arms, standing up straight as his emerald eyes watched the sun glint off the frozen surface in front of them.

“So we are. Perhaps this will relieve the headaches I get every time I hear you speak.”, Fane said with a very small smirk that twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Cassandra actually coughed out a small laugh at his attempt at a joke.

“Then perhaps mine will as well. So, I will try again. Will you continue to help us, Fane?”, Cassandra said with a renewed glimmer in her brown eyes, holding out her gloved hand to him.

Fane closed his eyes as a very small smile graced his lips, reaching out to firmly grasp the Seeker’s hand in his own with a sturdy handshake. The name was a start. A good one.

“I can’t promise I won’t lose my temper, but I will focus its intensity as best as I can towards the Breach. So, I will stay with your Inquisition until then, Cassandra.”, Fane told the human woman with a fierceness that made the gold in his eyes glimmer with life.

Cassandra smiled at him as she shook his hand back, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Fane felt lighter as well as he released the human woman’s hand with a quiet wince, feeling the scars along his arm reacting with the chill of the air and from the handshake. Well, the calm before the storm had been nice while it lasted, he supposed. With a heavy sigh, Fane waved dismissively at the Seeker’s look of quiet concern from his wince.

“Don’t worry about it. Just some soreness from those fights two days ago.”, he lied before attempting to change the subject because of the Seeker’s unconvinced stare, “Anyways, know where I can find the Commander? I didn’t see him by the training yard. I need to ask him something.”, Fane asked as he shifted his body to seem less pained.

Cassandra continued to stare at him before seeming to give up with a single nod. She jerked her head towards the walls of the village with a bemused scowl. Fane frowned at that. That meant wherever Cullen was, there was some kind of trouble. He thought that’s what the Seeker’s scowl was portraying anyways.

“He’s dealing with some mages and templars who are arguing about the Divine’s death.”, the Seeker sighed heavily before huffing with irritation, “..And Chancellor Roderick has returned from the College of Clerics.”, she finished with a slight growl.

Fane’s face deadpanned at the mention of the chancellor. He had hoped that after Cassandra chased him out of the Chantry on that day after their attempt at sealing the Breach, that that would be the last time Fane would ever have to deal with the old codger. Apparently not. Why couldn’t that wretched fool stay in Orlais with the rest of his kind? Maybe he would get lucky and the fool wouldn’t be present. Fane really hoped that would be the case. Oh, he really, really hoped.

“I will..go see what I can do to..um..help?”, Fane tried with uncertainty, feeling awkward at offering his assistance.

Cassandra snorted at his clumsy attempt before walking past him with her arms crossed against her chest. That made Fane feel even more like a fool as he let out a low growl of agitation. He was _trying_ , wasn’t he?! Blasted human and her blasted face! 

“That would be _appreciated_ , Herald. If not for the village, but for the Commander. We two are not the only ones with short fuses.”, Cassandra said with a small smirk before marching back down the dirt pathway, but stopped for a moment to look over at him with a hard stare, “I wish to speak again after you meet with the Commander. Our discussion isn’t over, not entirely.”, Cassandra stated before turning her head back to continue down the path.

Fane blinked at the Seeker’s retreating form before sighing heavily for the hundredth time that afternoon. 

“Well, so much for relaxing. Another discussion, huh? How _wonderful_.”, he grumbled to himself before trudging along the path back to the village entrance.


	21. Chapter 20 - Shattered Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane tries to make sense of everything that's happened to him lately while heading to help the Commander, but it would see his mind has other plans for him. As well as a mysterious whisper thought to have been nothing more than the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look! Fane lost his mind again! Big surprise! To be honest, I was having some difficulty writing this chapter because my mind didn't know what exactly it wanted to do. Part of me didn't want to write Fane losing it again so soon, but then I was like, "But that's a lot of what his character and story is about". If anything, the story ran away with itself as I integrate my own ideas. Again, this is a theory I have about elves and Uthenera.

Fane could feel the uncomfortable buzz of magic against his scarred skin the minute he set foot inside of Haven’s gates. It felt like pricking needles and liquid fire all at once. He involuntarily kneaded at his arms to try to erase some of the pain that was coursing through them. 

“ _ Shit _ , that burns..”, he growled to himself, nearly letting out a snarl instead. 

When Fane noticed he was getting a few odd looks from scouts and villagers alike, he merely growled under his breath once more before beelining for the stairs. Did everyone have to constantly find his actions odd or awe inspiring? For all they knew, he could be cold. Well, he  _ was _ cold, but that was nothing compared to the unnerving sensation of his skin crawling like it was covered in ants. Fire ants, to be more exact. Hot, pinching fire ants. Cassandra  _ had _ mentioned there was an altercation between the mages and templars, but she hadn’t mentioned it escalating beyond yelling. However, the amount of hot pain in his body told him otherwise. Fane sighed as he bent his neck side to side to work out the tension that was seizing up his muscles. Great. The magic was making his joints lock up like an icicle, too. Why was there so much of the blighted shit in the air?! Didn’t the Seeker have a tight lock down on magic within the village?! So much for that little rule! He heaved another sigh as long legs reached the top of the stone stairway. 

“ _ Where _ is it coming from?”, he asked no one in particular as his snowy head moved back and forth. 

Fane felt his skin rise in goosebumps from both the cold and the increase in sparking magical energy. He hissed quietly, gripping his arms tightly to stunt the wave of pain. Well, he was sure he was heading in the right direction now. Wait, the Seeker had said the Chantry, right? Why did everyone always flock to that blasted building like moths to flame? Especially the mages and templars. The templars, he could understand, but the mages? Shouldn’t they be avoiding the place like the plague? 

“ _ It’s like the idiots want to impress a parent who doesn’t give two shits about them.”,  _ he thought with no small amount of disgust, scoffing quietly to himself.

At his own analogy, Fane felt his mind darken with bubbling rage. He knew a thing or two about a parent who didn’t give a damn. You could cry and cry and cry, but that parent would still see you as nothing more than a means to an end. He had been that to his father. And yet, Fane had still kept trying to garner the creature’s approval and attention through outbursts and petty accomplishments. Now, he wished he hadn’t. If he hadn’t, then..maybe things wouldn’t be so fucked up. Snowy hair fluttered against his pointed ears gently as Fane shook his head of the rage that threatened to ensnare it.

“ _ No. Focus. Remember what the old man told you to do if you feel yourself slipping.” _ , he thought with another scoff at the thought of the elven mage. 

Even though he felt a sort of childish need to disobey the elder elf, Fane couldn’t dispute that what Solas had told him to do in Orlais had been helping since coming back to Haven. The mage had told him, after his first major breakdown, to focus on where he was and what he was doing. Emerald eyes shut themselves as Fane took a deep breath. He supposed he could give it a go, just for the sake of trying it again. If it actually worked like it did in Val Royeaux, then Fane would eat his boot. Literally. 

“ _ Haven. I’m in Haven. Snowy, blighted Haven. I’m looking for the Commander. I..I need to talk with him, right? Right. Father is gone. He is not here. This is Haven. This is Haven.” _ , he thought as calmly as he could, feeling minor jags of irritation at the thought of his father.

Fane opened his eyes slowly to take in the surroundings to help reaffirm where he was. Yes. He was in Haven. In the mountains. Not in the forest. Not in an aravel. He was outside. He was alone. Just him and the cold air. The cold, cold air. Fane felt a shiver run down his spine as a gust of harsh wind slammed into his side, face deadpanning with a bemused expression. Yup. He was definitely in Haven. Well, it wasn’t like he  _ disliked _ the cold, per say, but it did what most things did for him; brought up old, dark memories. His simmering rage began to increase in temperature before he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly. 

“ _ Okay. Seems that didn’t work exactly how it was supposed to. Maybe I should try the other thing? Ugh..”,  _ Fane thought with mounting exasperation at his failed attempt.

Okay. He’ll give the other train of thought process a go. What was it? Oh, right. Solas had also said to keep his thoughts in the air and his body tethered to the physical. Never mix them. Never. Part of him still didn’t precisely know what that meant, however. His body was already physically grounded, so why did he need to focus on that? Gravity saw to that. It wasn’t like he was in the Fade, and from what his sister had told him  _ that’s _ where things defied laws of the natural world. Unless.. Fane hummed with a furrowed snowy brow before his emerald eyes widened slightly, golden flecks dancing with a revelation. 

“The Fade.. That outburst had me feeling as if I was floating. Weightless. I didn’t feel connected to where I was. Could I have..? No, that’s not practical. Maybe..no. That isn’t either. Ugh, I need answers..”, he muttered to himself under his breath, working a hand up to ruffle his snowy hair in a confused gesture.

Fane carefully extracted his gloved hand from his hair to look down at his boots in contemplation. He couldn’t have potentially shifted across the Veil, could he? No, he didn’t have magical talent, so that was impossible! Though, he did have the magic from his mark. And the mark interacted with the Breach which opened into the Fade which would mean..what exactly? He put his hand back in his messy hair to ruffle at it some more, feeling the tell tale signs of a headache as his perplexed thoughts continued. These thoughts were getting him nowhere. All it served to do to him was put him in a state of confusion, but also..he felt like he was just nearly grabbing a hold of something. Something important. Almost like something he had forgotten! A low growl had Fane squeezing his eyes shut, barely noticing it was from himself as irritation grew to frustration. 

“ _ What is with me?! First the keen rage I’ve been feeling, then this state of utter confusion and sense of familiarity! Why can’t I place where it’s coming from?!”,  _ he thought angrily, barely feeling the whipping pain or bubbling nausea as his mark flared from his emotions.

Another deep growl sounded in his chest as Fane shook out his numbed marked hand, his body using muscle memory for when he was in pain to react. Nothing made sense! His place here, his mark, the Breach, the feelings of nostalgia towards people and things, that primal, unending urge to protect and destroy! None of it made sense! It was like his mind was projecting another person’s thoughts and memories as his own, but then using his actual version of those things to heighten them! But, even that explanation made no sense! Fane had been who he has always been! Fane! Fane and no one else! He was not a puppet nor a tool! He was..He was..! 

“Ngh..!”, he winced as his head throbbed angrily, finally perceiving the pain that was wracking his body. 

Fane gripped his head as piercing waves of pain coursed through it. The mark flared in time with his head, beating and pulsating like his pulse and heart. 

“S..Shit..”, he uttered through gritted teeth, his stomach churning as the smell of foreign magic mixed with the suppressed magic in the air.

Fane felt himself stagger slightly, catching himself against one of the stone pillars next to the stairway as his head continued to pound. Creators, it felt like a hammer was rattling against the walls of his mind! As if it were trying to shatter and break through! 

“Y..es..S..hatt..er..”, a windy whisper answered his thoughts just as they were voiced. 

At the caress of wind, that was not of the mountain, against the shell of his ear, Fane’s eyes went wide as he heard the whisper that hadn’t been present since before he had gone to Orlais. 

“Who..?  _ What _ are you?!”, he muttered urgently, trying to keep his voice down so as not to attract any attention from the villagers who were going about their days. 

He waited several heart beats for an answer, his mark thrumming along to those paces, before he realized he would get no reply. His rage nearly bubbled over at the deafening silence. He was  _ sick _ of silence! Why was he continuously being ignored?! His people, his gods, these humans! All of them ignored him! All of them ignored the pain and agony even as it tore through him like a tornado! And now, this willowy whisper would ignore him, too?! What did it mean by ‘shatter’?! Shatter what?! Shatter what?!  **SHATTER WHAT?!** Another primal snarl ripped from his lips as his mark cracked like a whip up his arm, his mind darkening like a storm cloud. 

“ **ANSWER ME!!** ”, he roared suddenly, whirling around to slam his marked fist into the stone pillar, the sickly green magic surging down his arm and into the stone.

The resounding crash of stone had Fane snapping out of his anger immediately as his emerald gaze landed on the shattered pillar; a veritable hole formed around his fist as the mark flared dimly. Pointed ears twitched as he heard shocked gasps and quiet whispers around where he was standing, still transfixed on the crumbling stone. He..shattered it. He had..done what that whisper said. Why? Why?! His mind whirled with panic and confusion as Fane drew his hand from the rumble quickly, flickering wisps of green magic seeping into the stone as he did so. As his dirtied gloved hand came back to him shakily, Fane stared at it in shock and panic before his body seized up in unfamiliar fear. He needed to run. He needed to  _ run _ ! Before he could act on that feeling, Fane heard two sets of footsteps rushing towards him. Shit, shit, shit! Why couldn’t he move?! Why was his body frozen!? 

“ _ I’ve got to run! If..If they catch me..! They’ll blame him! They’ll blame  _ **_him_ ** _! _ ”, he thought in a panic, unable to really understand his thoughts.

Fane growled deep in his chest as his snowy brows furrowed, emerald eyes still locked on his now silent hand. Blame who? Who would be blamed?! He was the one who shattered the damn pillar! Then who?! He could feel his anger rolling to a boil again as his thoughts provided him no answers and only more questions. The mark flickered weakly as if it was trying to find the power to grab a hold of his emotions to fuel it. No! He had to run! Before he caused any more damage! The hurried footsteps from before finally closed in on him and pointed ears twitched in agitation at the sharp intake of breath from a voice he undoubtedly knew; the Seeker. He also heard the rough shift of armor that was told him of his other witness; Cullen. Great. Just what he needed right now! 

“Herald! The Commander and I heard a large crash. What..?!”, Cassandra started as Fane heard her approach him before halting entirely at the sight of smouldering green rock, “ **What** happened here?!”, Cassandra bellowed in question.

Fane stood stock still, eyes still roaming over the mark on his hand. What did she think happened? Couldn’t she see?! Or was she truly that blind? It was a  **shattered** , crumbling, and sundered pillar of stone, and it was faintly glowing green. It would be obvious to his eyes if he was a witness as to what happened. At his continued silence, Fane felt a rough tug on his arm which snapped him completely out of his trance as pain shot up the place the Seeker had grabbed him. Oh for the love of..! How many more times must he go over this?!

“Don’t. Touch.  **ME** ! How many blighted times do I have to say it?!”, he roared angrily, violently ripping his arm from the Seeker’s grasp. 

Fane whirled around to meet Cassandra’s hard glare with a blazing emerald one of his own. The Seeker crossed her arms across her chest as she looked up at him. He felt his face twist into a snarl at that as he clenched and unclenched his throbbing hand from the pain in his arm. Oh, so she was going to go right back to lecturing him and demeaning him? What had been the point of speaking earlier if he was to be met with that accusing glare again?! He truly was an utter fool! As Fane felt his anger rise and rise to an almost fever pitch, his golden emerald gaze darted to the movement of Cullen who quickly shot Cassandra a look that said ‘Hold on’. Fane scoffed with disdain as the man came to stand in front of him, his gaze stern, but..worried. That made Fane’s rage pause for a moment. Worried? Shouldn’t this ‘ex-templar’ be wary of him and the ‘scary’ magic on his hand, especially from what it seemed to do to the pillar behind him. He truly did not understand these people still. Maybe he never would. 

“Herald, what happened?”, Cullen asked him calmly, nodding his head at the pillar that Fane was trying to cover unknowingly. 

Fane crossed his arms to squeeze at his biceps, averting his tired eyes from the Commander’s stern ones. He didn’t need to explain himself. There was no point. Either way, he would be condemned for it. So, instead of answering outright, he merely shrugged stiff shoulders.

“What’s it look like?”, he replied vaguely, rolling his tongue around in his mouth to stamp down the need to lock his jaw. 

Pointed ears twitched once more when Cassandra let out a quiet scoff. Oh, back to the petty gestures, were we?! As his face contorted to give the Seeker a violent snarl, it was Cullen who shot a warning glance over his shoulder towards the human woman. 

“Cassandra, please. I want answers as much as you, but antagonizing him further won’t get us anywhere.”, Cullen said flatly, his face a mask of stern disapproval.

The Commander turned back to face him fully with that same glint of mild concern in his amber eyes. Fane merely frowned at the sight as his grip on his coat sleeves tightened to near tearing. 

“ _ Don’t look at me like that, you fool.  _ **_Don’t_ ** _.” _ , he voiced within his mind, starting to feel the nagging pull of guilt in chest. 

The silence and glaring stretched on and on for what seemed like hours before Fane finally let out a defeated, heavy sigh. He just wanted to retreat from this place. He wanted to be  _ alone _ . And it would seem the only way to do that would be to placate these foolish warriors. With a stiff shift of his body, Fane uncrossed his arms to glance back at the pillar with a disgusted sneer.

“I punched it. With my fist. Lost my temper. That’s all.”, he said quickly, keeping his sentences curt.

The moment the words left his mouth, he heard Cassandra let out an unconvinced scoff. Did this woman have mucus stuck in her throat with how much she scoffed at him?! It was honestly starting to grate on his already frayed nerves! 

“And  _ why _ did you punch it?”, Cassandra asked him, her face concealing badly suppressed irritation.

He needed to lie. He needed to find something to shove the conversation away from him, if only for the moment. Once he was relatively calm and in his right mind, he would try to explain, but for now, no. Fane turned away from the Commander and the Seeker, slowly making his way towards the tavern.

“The magic was giving me a headache. Shouldn’t you be handling your wayward mages instead of pissing me off. You’ve done enough harm to this broken world, so go fucking fix it.”, he said flatly, picking up his pace to distance himself from the two humans before they could chase after him. 

Fane didn’t care if they eventually chased after him, but for now, he needed to hide. But  _ where _ was the problem. The village was so bloody small, privacy was limited unless you went into the valley. And right now, he didn’t have the patience or stamina to weather the wind and snow. Fane kept moving, thinking of possible options of sanctuary, before he nearly ran into someone, his boots digging into the dirt and snow to keep himself from crashing into them. 

“ _ Fuck! Watch where-!”,  _ he started to say in elvish, the words flowing from his mouth without much thought. 

Fane’s emerald eyes widened by a fraction when he saw the person he just about ran into. Great. Just what he needed. Solas turned around at his exclamation to give him a mildly shocked but curious look. 

“Herald? What are you..?”, Solas started to ask before stormy eyes immediately flickered down to his marked hand, “You are bleeding. What happened?”, the elven mage asked him urgently.

Snowy brows furrowed in confusion before Fane looked down at his hand. What he saw had him freezing once again. His whole lower arm was caked in dried and still moist blood as it ran down to his fingers, dripping onto the pure white snow at his feet. He hadn’t even noticed the cuts and gashes until just now. How hadn’t he felt the hot liquid pouring down his arm?! Fane clenched his hand into a fist with a slight wince, the muscles protesting the action. Shit. He really fucked up, didn’t he? He needed help, as much as he hated to admit it. 

“Can you..help me? I’ll..try to explain, if you want some kind of repayment, but..please. I can’t..look at this right now.”, Fane murmured, the sight of the blood rolling down his arm making his mind want to darken with painful memories.

Solas reached forward and gingerly took his injured arm to assess the damage done to it, hushing him when Fane growled in agitation. 

“I need no repayment. If you wish to talk, then you may. Your well being is more important right now. Come.”, Solas said gently, letting go of his arm to motion for him to follow. 

Fane merely nodded once before following Solas, keeping his head down like a beaten animal. Why did he always somehow come back to this mage? It was like, no matter how hard he tried, he would be pulled into the elven man’s orbit without a thought! And Fane always allowed himself to lower his walls slightly when Solas just  _ looked _ at him with those genuinely concerned eyes! Why?! Who was this elf to him?! It’s only been about a month, and Fane has felt like he’s known the mage for decades! He just wanted  _ answers _ ! Was that so much to ask for?!

As the two elves entered the cabin that Solas seemed to have claimed as his own, Fane immediately went into a state of paranoic frenzy, flitting from window to window to close shutters. He only felt Solas’s concerned gaze for a moment before his mind went into its own frenzy. Fane wasn’t entirely sure why his whole demeanor simply shifted, but once it had, he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want anyone finding him! He couldn’t handle more pointed questions or explanations or yelling or..or..! Each window slammed shut with a resounding click as shaky hands locked each on firmly. When the last of the windows were firmly sealed, Fane felt his entire body shaking as his chest heaved with panicked gasps. The only thing he could discern was the tangy smell of iron and the prickling of magic as it flittered on his scarred skin. He glanced down at his injured forearm and nearly emptied his stomach at the sight. Creators, there was so. much. blood. It was hot, it was viscous, it was red..so red! It ran in small rivers onto the wooden floor, seeping into the grain effortlessly. Just like when his body had poured literal tributaries in that..that  _ thing’s _ aravel! It felt like the walls were closing in on him as the floor seemed to become too distant to his feet and to his mind. Violent shudders wracked Fane’s body as he dug gloved fingers into the wood of one of the closed shutters, trying desperately to ground himself. He felt disconnected, weightless, flighty! It was happening again! Only this time there was too much sound, too much color, too much utterance and pull of destruction in his mind! He could hear it! He could hear it! It wanted to maim, to wreck, to  **shatter** ! But what did it want to shatter?! Who, what, when, how?! 

“Shatter, shatter, shatter.. What do I shatter..!? Do I shatter the earth or the ethereal!? The humans or myself!? The wall or the mirror!? Shatter, shatter.. Shattered mind, shattered fragments laying at my feet as they mirror a reflection back at me.. Shattered memories of blood and bile and pain..Oh, so much pain as the magic shattered my mind, my body, my everything..! Just like the sky, like the mountain..like the pillar..!”, he mumbled hysterically, mind whirling with the want to understand his rambling.

His muscled arms shaked with effort as Fane tried to cling to the world around him, terrified that it was slipping through his fingers even as they dug into solid wood. He didn’t understand anything of what he was saying. It was all garbled to his pointed ears. All he could feel was his own mouth moving as words tumbled out unbidden.

“ _ Why are you silent now?! Why, why, why?! Why do you continue to shove these memories, these thoughts into me?! You’re no better than that..that creature! No better, no better, no better! Should I shatter his face, his bones, his skin?! Yes..shatter the bones..shatter, shatter, shatter..” _ , he started rambling in elvish. 

Completely unaware of the elven mage as Solas slowly approached him from the side, Fane’s eyes flitted back and forth as if he was trying to figure out where he was. He was trying to do what Solas had told him! He was trying and yet he couldn’t! Why?! Why?! 

“Herald? Fane? Fane!”, Solas tried calling out to him, but Fane didn’t hear a thing as his mind pushed his other senses away. 

No, no, no! No calling, no saving, no  _ help _ ! No help for him! No help for him! Only pain, only destruction, only..only shattering! One tiny shred of sanity tried desperately to pull him back from the edge, but Fane felt like his mind was crumbling as memories of pain, torture, and inconceivable things flashed before his golden emerald eyes. He saw blood, knives, bindings on a table. He saw crystal, flashing fire, electricity, more blood, more pained expressions of people he did not recognize among those he did. He saw mirrors that were blackened, silent,  _ shattered _ . He saw sickly mossy colored eyes, a deceptive smile, and hopeless gifted flowers. But most importantly, he saw a horror stricken Solas as fire and ash blackened his vision, his body immediately giving way with the feeling of falling. Little did Fane know, it wasn’t just a feeling as his heavy body slammed to the ground as his frazzled mind gave way, the memories and visions being swept away in the darkness. The only perceptible thought amid distance calls of his name was something that only readied him for more unanswerable questions. 

“ _ I shattered my vow. Ir abelas..ir abelas.. _ ”, was his last thought as unconsciousness slashed into his mind. 


	22. Chapter 21 - The One Forgotten and The One Shackled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane has an encounter with the voice he occasionally hears. The encounter did not go well as it raised more questions and than answers. And a certain tenacious apostate continues to show his support which has Fane baffled and..oddly, intrigued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another thing. Have the thing. Cherish the thing.   
> Fane was stable! What an achievement for my boy! I'm so proud! And oh-ho! Flirting for two emotionally constipated elves! I love them so much. You have no idea. Is it so much to ask to want my wolf to be freaking happy?! *glares at Trespasser's lack of letting me support my man even if he's an utter idiot* I just want Fane to support Solas like Solas supports Fane! God!

“Wake up, you pathetic fool. You are beginning to try my patience.”

Golden emerald eyes fluttered open as the sound of a deep voice invaded his pointed ears. A shaky gaze glided along the expanses of darkness that stretched out before his prone form as it laid in a heap on the floor. Where was he? Why was it so dark? Fane’s mind was in a smoky haze as he tried to figure out what was going on, trying to push his body off of the blackened ground to stand. An irritated sigh sounded from above once more as an invisible force landed on his back, shoving him back down. 

“Is that the best you can do?! Get.  **UP** !”, a voice roared, shaking the void around him. 

Fane’s eyes went wide open as the voice seemed to pierce the walls of his mind with alarming precision. With a feral snarl, Fane pushed back against the force, which felt like a simple foot on his back, but ultimately slammed back onto the hollow ground with a resounding boom. Why couldn’t he push back?! Of all times for his strength to fail him, now was definitely not the time! The pressure on his back twisted itself as Fane was forced into the black floor, the feeling making his skin scream in agony. He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he tightened his throat to keep the sound in his chest. By anything that was holy, that was an immensely keen pain! It wasn’t just working on his body, but his mind, too! Almost as if..it  _ was _ his mind! Another exasperated sigh sounded as the grinding pressure stopped suddenly. 

“You are truly a disgrace. Disgusting filth.”, the voice that had shook the void around him sounded once more before a blackened figure materialized in front of his shaking form.

Fane only saw shadowy feet as they approached him, not even echoing in the vast darkness as they came to a stop before him. 

“What are-?!”, he started to ask before he felt a violent tug wretched his head off the ground as the figure threaded blackened fingers in his snowy hair, “Ngh!”, he winced out around a deep growl, emerald eyes blazing with rage as he glared at the darkened apparition. What was he looking at?!

The figure was as tall as he was when Fane was standing, and of the same build, but there was no face that he could make out. All he could discern were watery ripples of black as they seemingly hid a face behind a veil. His shaky vision could make out sharp edges of armor, but the color and design were obstructed by the same watery texture. The thing was like a walking shade! However, Fane  _ felt  _ intense waves of emotion coming from the entity. Emotions of rage, of hate, of disgust, and of disappointment, but most of all, he could feel an urge. An urge to  _ destroy _ . Fane narrowed his emerald eyes, the gold in them flaring to life as rage began to steadily rise in time with the entity’s own keen ire. 

“ _ You _ .”, he growled out as he pushed against the shadow’s hair tearing grip. Fane  _ knew _ what this thing was. That voice. That willowy whisper that kissed the shell of his ear at the worst of times. That intense  _ desire _ to sunder. Those keen moments of rage and utter yearning to protect. It came from the figure currently holding his head by the hair. He  _ knew _ it. As if following the train of his thoughts, the watery figure brutally slammed his head down into the blackened floor, Fane heard a crack of bone as his nose spewed blood and bloomed with hot pain. He snarled around the blood that ran down his face, the smell nearly making him retch with how acrid it smelled. Yes, this thing was immensely angry, but why? And why was he the target of its ire? However, the figure didn’t stop there to give Fane time to ponder those questions. With an unearthly force, it reached down to grab his hair again before slamming his face into the ground more. More blood filled his mouth as Fane bit down on his tongue from the force. Another deep snarl sounded from his lips, the blood pooling in his mouth making the sound garbled as he pushed against the figure’s torturous grip. Fane saw a blinding flash of gold fill his vision as he glared with utter rage and challenge at the expressionless shade. He felt a twisted smirk form as Fane leaned into the grip, offering the shadow to slam him down again. So, it wanted to play judge, did it? Well, then, let it! Surprisingly, the entity faltered for a moment before Fane heard an earth quaking growl sound from it. His hysterical smirk matching his wild eyes. 

“Go on. Is that all you’ve got? Do it again.”, Fane commanded in a dark voice, spitting out blood as it continued to flow into his mouth, “ **DO** **IT**!”, he roared after, managing to raise himself up on his knees. 

As soon as the roaring command left his mouth, Fane felt himself slammed back against an invisible wall as the shade checked him into it, a blackened grasp now clamped around his pale neck. Emerald eyes glared right back into blackened water as the shade leaned in to seemingly leer, Fane could feel the indescribable heat of rage and hatred flowing from its form. Was something like this truly inside of him? No, surely not. He still had no idea where he was, for that matter! The void around them was black and seemingly endless, but yet he had been smashed against an invisible wall! It was like he was in a box that was far taller than it was wide. And the only sounds that echoed were the brutal slams and his labored breathing. It was a silent abyss cloaked in darkness, but Fane had the distinct feeling it was more fragile than it seemed. A strained glance downwards showed that the floor beneath his feet was..glassy. It was like shadowed reflective material. Like a..mirror. Fane furrowed his brows before a crushing force squeezed his neck before relenting minimally. The entity holding him hummed in disapproval before tightening its grip on Fane’s windpipe once more. He choked slightly from the lack of air, but continued to glare with unrelenting fury at the seething thing. This creature truly thought it was frightening? It wasn’t frightening, it was disgustingly idiotic! It thought this kind of pain would make him kneel?! This was nothing! Nothing compared to what he endured from his father! Nothing compared to the scent of blood as it rolled off his body! Nothing compared to white hot magic searing his skin and scorching his blood! Nothing compared to the psychological torture he has had to deal with for nine years! Fane tried to kick off the surprisingly strong entity, but his feet simply phased through its form. His eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?!”, he exclaimed, the sound choked and strained from the grip on his neck. He heard a dark chuckle sound from the entity as it leaned right into Fane’s bewildered face. Oh, that chuckle. He had heard that chuckle before. It made him sick!

“You can’t touch me. I am nothing more than a fragment that was somehow attached to your pathetic mind! I reside here, watching and listening to every little trivial, mundane matter you toil through! Do you have any  _ idea _ how  _ demeaning _ such a fate is?!”, the voice hissed into his face, jolting Fane’s body against the wall with a harsh shove. 

Fane coughed at the jolt, blood splattering onto the black floor, dying it a stark crimson. This thing was..attached to his mind? Was that where he was?! His mind?! At his thoughts, the shadow snarled angrily as it whipped Fane’s body to the ground, the blackened floor shattering slightly like the glass he thought it was. The air left his lungs as the impact took away his breath. Creators, was this thing unendingly strong! As Fane tried to gulp in air, the entity stood over him, leaning down to snarl at him with unrestrained fury. 

“You think I can’t hear those pitiful thoughts in your mind?! Oh, I do! I hear it  _ all _ ! The pain, the agony, the doubt, the inane questions, the pity you heap on yourself for what you endured! I have no  _ choice _ but to listen!”, the entity roared as it slammed a foot into his chest, effectively taking away his breath just as Fane was getting it back, “Just as you have no  _ choice _ in being what you  _ are _ ! But yet, you  _ run _ from that as your mind desperately tries to cling to shattered memories that are unimportant! You. are.  **PATHETIC** !!”, the shade bellowed, lifting its leg to smash Fane’s body into the ground by his chest.

Fane’s mouth spewed blood as he felt several ribs splinter and crack in various pieces, his body unintentionally rolling on its side. What was this thing talking about?! What he was? What was he?! And what was it?! A hand snatched the collar of his tunic as the shadow hoisted him up to seemingly glare into his emerald orbs. Fane snarled loudly with a blazing glare of his own. 

“ _ What _ or  _ who _ are you?!”, he spat out the question, watching as flecks of blood phased through the watery blackness. Fane wanted answers, and he would have them even if he had to endure a beating in his own mind! The heat of rage rolled off the entity as if it were a blazing inferno as it lazily, but brutally threw him into the opposing wall across the void. Fane slammed into the wall  _ hard _ , feeling the subsequent walls of his mind reverberating against the impact as his head bloomed with hot, throbbing pain. Like a flickering shadow the entity materialized in front of him as Fane’s body dropped to the cracked ground, but he got no rest as a shadowy hand grabbed his snowy hair once more and proceeded to continuously smash his head into the ground with the only sounding being the thunderous bashing of his head against a voided floor and the wet smack of blood as it spewed from every opening on his face. And all the while, Fane let the entity do it with nary a scream, nary a cry, nary a tear. He took it. He took it  _ well _ . Within the confines of one’s own mind, there was no rest to be had. It was a continuous flow of thought and expression. Of memory both short term and long. Good and bad. Forgotten and remembered. It was a new brand of torture. A torture he endured like all the others. It seemed as if time had stopped within the fragile stillness as the pounding of his head continued. Fane could feel blood pouring down his face and neck as a cracked floor began to dig its way into his face every time the shadow violently slammed it down. After what felt like an eternity, the thuds of his head began to slow as the entity seemingly began to tire, Fane’s dulled hearing picking up the audible sound of labored gasps as the shadow panted harshly. So,  _ it _ could get tired, but he couldn’t? That was not as comforting a thought as Fane had hoped. Just because he couldn’t get tired didn’t mean he could fight back. Even as his rage had blazed, all of Fane’s strength and ire had been forwarded to the gasping shade before him. It was as if it  _ fed _ off emotion, primarily anger and hatred, and left Fane literally defenseless. That was what a shade from the Fade did, but..that label seemed hollow for this creature. Shades..didn’t get tired. Demons didn’t get tired. But this thing  _ did _ . Then could it truly be a piece attached to his mind as it had said? Was it an intruder? No, it was a  _ prisoner _ . A being suffering an eternal hell that was Fane’s tormented mind. Part of him almost felt pity for the entity.  _ Almost _ . Fane didn’t care if was tormented by its cage, he still didn’t appreciate being used as a literal outlet for this thing! A now bloodied hand reached down to grasp at his battered face, not paying any mind to his broken bones as it twisted Fane’s to look at its watery face. Fane managed to weak glare as he spat blood onto the ground, coughing up more as he did so. 

“You wish to know who I am?”, the entity asked with an exceedingly calm tone, but by its grip Fane could tell it was still bristling with the want to bash his face in.

Fane managed a single nod before more blood fell onto the blackened floor, the wet sound echoing within the confines of his mind. Yes, he did. He wanted just one blighted answer in a world of never ending questions. Just one. As it perceived his thoughts, the entity smashed his face into the shattering ground once more, the floor groaning in protest as the cracks in the glass spread to the walls. 

“Then know this: I am the carnal  _ desire _ within the back of your mind that wishes to correct this broken landscape that I  _ suffer _ to see through your two toned eyes. I am the  _ rage _ you have begun to feel so intensely as corrupted creatures needle you and tear at your buried memories. I am the  _ urge _ that you feel when you wish to shield the one you are bound to by  _ duty _ ; a duty you have  _ forgotten _ .”, the entity hissed out the last statement as he cracked Fane’s head into the glassy expanse with renewed vigor.

Fane heard the shattering of glass as his face hit the ground once more, the cracks resembling golden and white runes. Is this what his mind felt like when it lost itself in his frenzies? It must have. And this creature was the cause of all that? How? How did it come to be here?! The entity tsked at his thoughts as it finally let him go, giving a harsh kick to broken ribs as it turned away.

“You wished for  _ one _ answer. So, one answer is all you shall have, until you  _ prove _ you deserve more.”, the entity said evenly as it began to walk away, pointedly avoiding the shimmering cracks as it trudged back into the darkness that was his decaying mind, “And the answer to that question is simply this; I am you. The you who was  _ forgotten _ amongst fire and ash. The you who  _ failed _ in their appointed duty. The you who seeks to  _ atone _ for misdeeds long forgotten.”, the entity turned back to him as the floor opened up underneath, the whole void filling with blinding white, “I am the you who  **fell** .”, it finished before searing white obstructed everything in Fane’s visionary path.

Fane’s emerald eyes widened as the weightless feeling of falling enveloped his bloody form. All questions that rang in his mind were silenced as he fell through the cracks of his shattered mind.

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Fane sat up with a violent jolt as his mind rose from the depths of unconsciousness. He sat on a bed that was not his panting and sweating with equal measures of terror and adrenaline as he tried to come down from what he just experienced. With jerky gestures, Fane urgently looked at his body for any signs of blood or injury, but all he saw was his distinct leather wrappings and an intact tunic. No taste of blood filled his mouth as Fane rolled his tongue around in his mouth to see if there were injuries there. His face felt unswollen and whole as shaky hands rose to gingerly prod at it. 

“ _I’m okay. I’m okay. Had that..had that just been a dream?_ _No. That was too real. Too real.._ ”, he thought with varying degrees of fear and disbelief as heavy tiredness weighed down on him. What had all that been? He had seen nothing but utter darkness and heard naught a sound but silence. And that entity..it had said it was the _him_ that he had forgotten? The him that had fallen? What had any of that meant?! Fane’s head pounded with a reckoning as he tried to make sense of his nightmare. Evidently, it did not want him thinking about what had happened right now. Perhaps that _thing_ was in there now, pulling and pushing on the walls to keep him complicit. Part of him didn’t even want to believe it had been anything more than a simple nightmare, exceedingly tame compared to his normal ones, but there was this nagging feeling telling him that it was anything but a dream. It had been _real_. It had been _true_. And it had left him with _far_ more questions. Lovely. A still shaking hand wove its way into snowy locks as Fane slowly shut his eyes, letting the pain ebb away on its own.

“What a bunch of shit..”, he muttered to himself tiredly, massaging at his head with rough fingers. 

“Herald?”, Fane heard a familiar voice from the doorway as he felt a rush of cool air hit his sweaty skin. He opened his emerald eyes to look towards the door, gaze landing on Solas as he watched him with a concerned expression before quickly shutting the door to stave off the cold gusts of wind. At the sight of the elven apostate, Fane felt his stomach do a minor flip in both relief and panic. Relief at seeing someone familiar and ultimately more friendly. Panic as it dawned on Fane that he had passed out on the elven mage. Even though he could feel a prick of wanting to run away, Fane opted to simply lean back against the pillows as he ran two hands through snowy locks before sighing tiredly. 

“Hey, Solas.”, he replied casually, hearing soft footsteps approach him before Solas stopped at the edge of the bed. Fane looked up from where he was reclining to see a conflicted expression of worry and uncertainty as the mage seemingly didn’t know if it was okay for him to get closer. Fane felt a needling tug on his mind at the expression on the mage’s face. He furrowed his brows in confusion before sensing the unease in Solas’s demeanor. Oh, that was new. He usually could read the emotions on the apostate’s blank face, but to feel his emotions as if they were rolling off of him was different. With another tired sigh, Fane shifted over carefully before motioning to the free spot with an awkward gesture. 

“Sit down. It’s your bed after all.”, he said flatly, pointedly keeping his gaze on the hearth on the far wall. When Fane didn’t feel a shift of the bed he rolled his eyes in exasperation before turning back to see Solas looking at him in minor bewilderment, “Solas. Sit the  _ fuck _ down before I lose it again.”, he ordered crudely as he managed a weak glare up at the uncertain mage. That seemed to knock the sense back into the elven mage because Fane watched as he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. However, Fane could see Solas was practically about the fall off. He growled in exasperation before reaching over and, as gingerly as he could, pulled Solas further onto the bed. He truly wasn’t in the mood for games or veiled fear. For some reason, Fane merely wanted the elder elf close. He needed an anchor, a solid rock. He just needed to make sure he was in the physical world and not his shattered mind. Emerald eyes ignored the look of disapproval as Solas easily came onto the bed the rest of the way, thanks to his helping hand. Instead, his gaze fell onto the flickering flames once more as silence permeated the cabin surrounding them. He was still reeling from his nightmare? Dream? Experience? Fane didn’t know what to call it yet. All he knew was that it had left him feeling drained and confused. Thankfully, he did get one answer, as the entity had promised. Fane could now discern that whisper when it would sound in his ear. Maybe that knowledge would help him control his volatile emotions better. Or perhaps, it would make it worse? It could, since he now knew that that entity, for all intents and purposes, was him. He could easily use an excuse saying, “This is who I am” to get away with his outbursts. But that didn’t sit right with him. No. Fane would have to control these feelings of rage and destruction or he would either kill someone, be killed, or finally lose what little sanity he had left. He had to temper it. Hone it. Nurture it gently. He needed more answers. He needed to investigate where this shade could have come from. It had said it was pulled into his mind at one point, but when? More importantly, how had it been trapped? And also, why? There were so many questions swirling in his head that he barely felt the coolness of Solas’s hand as it touched his shoulder gingerly. Fane jumped from being startled as he whipped his gaze back to the worried blue eyes of Solas, the mage’s face downturned in a confused frown. Fane blinked a few times at the look. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like that look of worry and confusion. It made his chest ache with an odd sensation. An odd, but familiar ache, that is. Always, always familiar.

Solas retracted his hand quickly, having forgotten about his aversion to touch for the moment.

“My apologies. I forgot myself for a moment.”, Solas apologized quietly as his hand clenched into a loose fist, “It’s merely that you look pensive. I don’t believe I have seen that look on you in the time we’ve traveled together. I had me a bit..stunned.”, he explained after a few moments of silence, stormy eyes shifting away with hints of confusion in them. 

Fane hummed noncommittally before turning his gaze back to the fire, soft orange illuminating striking golden flecks. He was pensive, huh? He supposed that described his mood at the moment. Fane couldn’t remember a time when he felt no anger; not even a small bubble was present in his body at the moment. No, he merely had a yearning for answers and truth. He wanted to know more about the shade that claimed they were one the same. He wanted to know how and why it had been trapped within his mind. He wanted to know where it originally came from. He wanted to know what it had meant by how he ‘fell’, how he forgot his duty, and for what he was to atone for. Perhaps Fane should have felt more wary at an apparition within his mind, but something in him told him it was not a demon or even something malevolent; even though it had practically thrown him around like a rag doll. No, if anything, those violent measures were ways of making Fane listen, to understand what the entity was trying to explain to him. He knew this because at times, Fane would do the very same thing to get a point across. He would smash, break, and roar to garner attention to an issue he found important. All the more reason to acknowledge the two of them as the same being. But, if he wanted to be really sure as to the watery shade’s nature, he could try asking someone versed with otherworldly beings. Fane glanced back at Solas, who was staring into the flames as well, blue eyes filled with contemplation as the mage’s face was set into a hard expression. 

“ _ Hmph. He did this the last time we were alone. He would stare at what I was staring at. The last time, he had looked so confused from my fascination with wood. He certainly is odd, but then again, so am I.” _ , Fane mused to himself before rubbing at his temples with one hand, his head starting to throb again, “Mm.”, he hummed out softly, immediately feeling a searing gaze on the side of his face. He continued the slow massage until the pain slowly receded once more, heaving a heavy sigh as it abated. Yeah. He needed to get answers and a solution. Sooner rather than later, preferably. He lazily let his hand fall from his temples as emerald eyes slowly rolled over to look at Solas. Solas was watching him closely, his expression guarded, but Fane could tell the mage wanted to offer help, but was unsure how to at the moment. It was odd to see the usually confident elf so hesitant. Then again, maybe he was afraid Fane would fly off the handle again. It wouldn’t surprise him. Fane shifted his body to face it more towards Solas’s, letting a muscled leg hang over the edge to show a bit of vulnerability. Solas obviously caught on to his gesture because the mage blinked in surprise. Well, first thing was first, Fane needed to explain what made him..so hysterical before he passed out. He wouldn’t go into too much detail, but he could give an outline. 

“Listen, I need to ask you something, but I think I owe you an apology.”, he started with a slight wobble to his voice, feeling awkward from being so open and calm, “I..I didn’t mean to pass out on you like that again. I didn’t even  _ want _ anyone to see me so..frazzled.”, he continued, his voice still shaking with the effort to explain, emerald eyes saw Solas begin to interject, but Fane held up a hand to silence him, “Shut up. Let me get this out. It just takes me a bit, okay?”, he nearly pleaded with the elf in front of him. 

If Solas tried to wedge himself into his explanation now, Fane would never be able to continue. He needed to act on his emotions as they were. And right now, they were calm and focused. He didn’t get many chances to voice his thoughts coherently, so he was going to bask in this for as long as he could. Fane waited for the elven mage to nod his asset. When he did, Fane let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding before steeling himself to continue. 

“Thanks..”, he uttered out quickly before shifting his mind back to his original point, “It’s obvious to everyone that..I’m not completely put together. I’m intolerable, incessantly angry, and literally a walking fire rune. There’s no excuse, but there is a reason for it all.”, he explained slowly, eyes darting up to make sure Solas was still listening, which the elf was, rather aptly, too. Fane faltered at the look of earnest attention on Solas’s hard expression. The mage was truly invested in him, wasn’t he? Fane did faintly remember Solas saying he was looking for the root cause of his pain.. It would figure that the equally as strange elf other than him would wish to get involved in his problems. If fate existed, it sure wasn’t fickle. When Solas tilted his head at his silence, Fane quickly cleared his throat. Oh, right! Explanation, explanation.

“S..Sorry. Lost my train of thought. So..damn, where do I even start with this mess?”, he muttered to the last bit to himself, reaching up to scratch at his head. He really wasn’t good with these types of things. He had felt this way with Cassandra earlier in the day when the two had had their first civil conversation. Civility was..hard. Fane was a warrior first, and a person second. He spoke in the language of swords, not men. The only words he knew were death and anger. So, this was a huge step in unknown territory. Seeing that he was struggling, Solas very carefully reached over to pat his forearm with an encouraging smile. Fane felt a light sting of pain from his scars, but was too distracted by the smile on Solas’s face. He really liked that look on the elven mage, but wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“ _ It’s like..what I envision him looking like. Unburdened and unguarded. I want more of it..” _ , he thought to himself, having to shake his head a bit to dislodge such thoughts. What the hell? This..this mage was invoking very confusing thoughts in him. Even more than he already has! He needed to get back on track! This type of emotion was meaningless when other things were more pressing! Fane rubbed at his face with one hand, noticing that his marked hand was bandaged neatly. Snowy brows furrowed before Fane looked back at Solas. 

“Did you..tend to me?”, he asked carefully, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts at the moment.

Solas merely chuckled at his struggling before the elf nodded once, carefully reaching over to replace Fane’s hand on the bed.

“I did. I was not going to let your hand become infected while you slept.”, Solas explained plainly before looking down at his bandaged hand, “Though, it raises some questions. I spoke with Cassandra and Cullen, but I wish to hear your side.”, the mage continued as he slowly lifted his stormy eyes back to Fane’s now bewildered face, “What happened?”, Solas asked gently.

Fane blinked a few times before sighing heavily. So, Solas had spoken with Cullen and Cassandra about the..the pillar? Then, the mage knew enough to get a grasp on the situation. Surely Solas had investigated the pillar? That would tell him everything merely from the wispy green tendrils of magic that were possibly still lingering! Fane let his head rest against the cabin wall, the headboard too low for him to rest it against that, before letting out another heavy sigh.

“You saw the pillar. I don’t think I need to explain that I was angry. That’s kind of a theme with me.”, he said with a clipped tone, a very small bubble of agitation rising in him before it was effectively stamped out with weariness. Creators, he was exhausted. He had just awoken and yet he was tired. Perhaps that thing had done more than simply beat him. It seemingly drained him of any and all emotional energy. Maybe it really was a shade.. Fane’s musings were interrupted when he watched Solas carefully pick up his hand to unwrap some of the bandages. He furrowed his brow as the mage gingerly pulled them away to reveal his mark. What was he doing?

“The mark-”, Solas started, carefully running a finger along the opening, “reacts to your emotions. Think of it as how a mage wields magic. Magic is a tool that is defined and powered by will and emotion. The stronger the will, the deeper access one has to primordial energy. However, emotion is what truly dictates the potency of a spell. For instance, if one’s rage is as incandescent as yours, their fire spells would burn hotter and last far longer. If one has much internal despair, their ice spells would bite deeper and hold faster. And so on and so forth.”, Solas explained to him calmly and evenly, carefully pressing against his mark to garner some type of reaction from it, “Your mark is indelibly magic even though you are not a mage. As you can see, it is dormant now simply because you are  _ calm _ . Whereas, when you are angered, it ignites to match that frustration. For all intents and purposes, you  _ wield _ magical talent. You merely cannot access the wells of the Fade as easily as a mage. However, your mark allows you to  _ warp _ the Veil, to  _ snap _ it like a whip. And when you are furious, enraged, and venomous? That whip cracks upon the back of the world without restraint, and only such keen rage can invoke that whip. The rage you feel is not skin deep. It is  _ soul _ wrecking. Whatever triggered you to lash out at that pillar was borne of immense trauma. The state of crumbling stone showed me as much.”, Solas stated as he gently rewrapped Fane’s hand in the bandages, “I suppose, what I am trying to say is this; You did not lash out on a childish whim. You lashed out because you could not  _ control _ the emotion of anger any longer. Just as a young mage cannot know how to control their own powers. You let emotions dictate your actions, and the mark responds in turn. You wield a destructive power, Herald. One that  _ must _ be tempered. Otherwise, it will spread and consume your mind and soul.”, Solas finished with a sad smile as he let Fane’s bandaged hand rest against the bed once more.

Fane let Solas’s words seep into his understanding as he sat ramrod straight against the pillows. As his mind whirled with everything Solas explained, Fane could feel his head beginning to ache more intensely. So, what? He was a mage, but not a mage? No, that isn’t what the old fart meant. Solas meant that he had to  _ act _ as a mage did. He had to be aware of what his emotions could do if they rose beyond controllable levels. He had to realize..how much potential devastation he could wreak on the world and on himself. Just as mage who inevitably became possessed would do. That..was a frightening thought. So, he was much like a demon after all.. Fane’s emerald eyes flashed an amber gold as he averted his gaze to red and orange flames of the gentle fire. He could feel Solas watching him closely as if the elven mage was assessing a puzzle. As flames danced lazily, Fane felt a deep anguish fill his heart as well as feeling of warmth and..safety. When was the last time someone had sat with him and simply explained something to him? Without fear of angering him, either? Even his sister would sometimes distance herself from him when Fane’s temper reached a roaring blaze. It always left a cold loneliness that invariably frosted over his heart and soul, closing him off more soundly to the rest of the world. But Solas..Solas was being patient with him, allowing him to stumble over his words, and kept giving him stern reassurance when the elder had no reason to. And for what felt like the hundredth time since he met the enigmatic mage, Fane had to ponder why. Why did this knowledgeable, aloof elf continuously seek him out and offer him guidance? Why did he always wish to become invested with Fane’s personal problems, giving kindness even when met with a bitter snarl? Why did Solas  _ care _ about  _ him?  _ All these questions, and no answers. He was sensing a theme here. Fane lifted his bandaged hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have the energy to think about all this. He would simply have to take one thing at a time. Two toned eyes looked back to Solas’s own grey and blue since the mage had still been watching him. Fane’s eyes narrowed a bit as he felt a slight frown form on his face.

“Why do you care about me, Solas?”, he asked simply, wanting the answer to that particularly bothersome question. 

Solas blinked a few times in surprise before the mage’s brows furrowed in contemplation. Fane let out an amused huff of air through his nose at the look. There the odd elf went again, thinking up a storm. How odd. Fane thought that perhaps even Solas didn’t know why he was so invested in his well being. So very, very odd. For some reason, the look of utter concentration that pinched the apostate’s face made Fane feel..playful. He didn’t even think such a feeling existed in him anymore. A small, barely noticeable smirk twitched on one corner of his mouth as he continued to watch the thinking elf before reaching over with one finger to smooth the creases from between furrow brows. Solas jumped in surprise, eyes snapping up in shock at his actions. The look only served to amuse Fane more, to the point where he actually let out a rough, quiet laugh. 

“Sorry, didn’t want your face getting stuck like that. Wrinkles wouldn’t suit you. Even if the look of concentration does.”, Fane teased quietly before taking his hand back. 

Solas blinked again, his mouth slightly agape at Fane’s teasing tone. Fane scoffed softly before closing his eyes to rest them and to stave off the gentle throbbing of his head. A soft clearing of a throat had Fane letting out another amused huff of air as he felt the bed shift slightly, signifying that Solas had moved a bit. It would seem he rattled the elven mage. That was actually kind of funny. Fane could stand to be more playful if it got that type of reaction every time. He could feel himself starting to doze off, still considerably tired from whatever had happened in his mind. Maybe he should hold off on asking anything more for today. The matter of the thing in his mind could wait until he got at least a fraction of rest. Fane was just about to let sleep claim him until he felt another shift of the bed, making him crack one emerald eye open slightly. He raised one snowy eyebrow when he saw Solas looking at him with a playful glint in his stormy eyes, noticing that the man had come a bit closer to him. Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it? Solas smirked a bit at his questioning expression before the elven mage leaned back to the edge.

“I find your expressions far more  _ fascinating _ than my bland ones. From calm serenity to furious  _ heat _ . It is quite the sight to witness and..to  _ bask _ in.”, Solas said smoothly before elegantly rising from his seat on the bed to let Fane rest.

Fane’s single emerald eye widened in shock at the apostate’s smooth words. His expressions were..fascinating? Serenity? Heat? Bask?! He could feel his heart pounding in his chest before letting out an airy chuckle, letting his eye slip shut. What was this feeling? It felt as if molten lava was running through his veins! Fane felt viscous and hardened at the same time. Ooo, this mage was  _ trouble,  _ wasn’t he? He clapped his bandaged hand over his eyes as a smirk threatened to spread across his face. 

“Is that so?”, he whispered to the air in a deep timbre as he felt sleep begin to claim him once more.

Pointed ears twitched gently at the sound of a quiet chuckle. 

“Hm.”, he heard Solas give him a hum of acknowledgement and agreement, his keen hearing picking up Fane’s muffled words easily. 

Oh, he was shackled. Inexplicably shackled to an emotion Fane had yet to grasp. However, did he feel resentment at that? Oddly, no. Instead, he felt a calmness, a connection, with such an odd emotion. A silent tickle against his ear barely made Fane flinch as a whisper sounded quietly.

“ _ Keep him  _ **_safe_ ** _ this time, you pathetic whelp. _ ”, it said with a hint of disgust before shifting away weakly.

Fane scoffed softly before letting warm and gentle darkness envelope his consciousness once more. As if he could do any less.


	23. Chapter 22 - Inevitable Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane heads to the Storm Coast, but as always, things don't go quite according to plan when his mind and temper begin to act up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized that some parts are cohesive in this story, and some aren't. I've said it before, but the first part of this long, long story is mainly getting people aquainted with Fane's overall character, and what's going on with him. It's also establishing a lot of his relationships for later on. So, it might be written at times as if they're one shots that sort of link up to what happened in previous chapters. Fane doesn't really start to mellow out until after Haven. Mainly, because what happens during that period of time sort of lays some of the puzzle pieces together for him.   
> Solas and Fane are the literal dads of any group. I will not waver from that theory. Never.

Mhairi had always told him that the best way to snuff out a roaring blaze was with a torrential downpour. Though, Fane hadn’t thought  _ he’d _ be the fire in that analogy as rain poured from the sky, effectively leaving him chilled and overall, very much in aching pain. 

Several days after Fane’s little ‘incident’-he liked to refer to it that way-, he and his small party of ‘eclectic’ companions had set out for the Storm Coast on receiving an offer of help from a mercenary band called ‘The Bull’s Chargers’. Well, the Inquisition itself hadn’t received the offer. It was more like Fane himself had, since the messenger had come directly to him. Thankfully, he had been in a ‘palatable’ mood that day, so Fane had taken the message in stride. Honestly, he’d be lying if he said the nature of the offer hadn’t intrigued him. Mainly because he had to wonder  _ why _ a mercenary company would wish to help a practical rival to the Chantry. It wasn’t like a mercenary’s work would be threatened if a tottering relic of religion toppled, right? If anything, Fane had thought it would  _ boost _ their offers for work. As much as he  _ despised _ the Chantry for all it stood for, Fane had to admit there would be chaos if it completely crumbled. At least for the humans. He still held firm to his belief that those rounded eared creatures just  _ loved _ warfare and conflict. It was in the blood. Many things were. However, maybe that was why this group wished to join? To prevent a downward spiral that would, yes, create work, but ultimately founder like a wayward sea vessel? Well, Fane supposed he would have to meet with their captain to find out the answer, at any rate. He was so very tired of questions. So many damn questions and no blighted answers. And he sure wasn’t getting any closer to those answers wading through mud and rain! Fane lifted a hand to roughly push his soaked snowy hair back from his face, feeling his nose running from the sheer chill of being wet. 

“You know, as much as I hate the Hinterlands, this place is very steadily about to take that spot. At least all I had to deal with there was nearly keeling over from nausea. Now, I get to be wet  _ and _ sick. Fucking fantastic.”, he grumbled out, taking a handful of cloth from his tunic underneath his leather jacket to wring the copious amounts of water out.

Fane growled quietly as he watched with disgust as water splashed onto the already soaked ground. How was this place not a literal marsh?! It was literally waterlogged, but still solid enough to count as stable land? He would never truly understand why nature did what it did. As he continued to harshly wring water out of every porous material on his armor, pointed ears twitched at the sound of Varric letting out a miserable sigh of his own. Glad he wasn’t the only one to hate it here.

“I’m right there with you, Tempest. But honestly, rain I can deal with. Uneven terrain? Not so much.”, the dwarf said with a defeated tone, Fane hearing the slipping of a boot as Varric nearly bit it, “Andraste’s ass! Even terrain! Even. Terrain. Is that so much to ask for?!”, Varric pleaded as he fought to regain his balance. 

“Ech, my shoes are about to get sucked off! Stupid mud, stupid rain, stupid..everything!”, Sera exclaimed next, equally as unhappy about the terrain’s challenges. 

Fane deadpanned as he felt his head begin to pound from the two’s complaints. Why had he decided on this party again? Oh, right. It had been the best option to distance himself from the Seeker. Well, at least for a few days. Since his destruction of the stone pillar, Fane and Cassandra’s momentary truce had dissolved into the same antagonistic bickering they had started with. The Seeker had gone right back to watching him with wary glares and stern frowns. And Fane had lapsed back into barking at every word as if it were a direct insult or accusation. Honestly though? Fane could have cared less. He was done trying to force a peaceful coexistence. He didn’t require friendship from the human woman, or any of these people, really. Some of them were simply more tolerable than others. Like Varric. When he wasn’t moaning about the terrain, that is. The dwarf hadn’t been kidding when he had said Fane was welcome within his corner. Varric had redoubled his efforts of breaking Fane out of his armored shell since their first drink, and Fane didn’t know if it was really working, but he wouldn’t complain about getting buzzed. He had felt oddly relaxed after each drink and conversation with the rogue. However, he would never tell Varric that, lest he be accused of growing soft. Soft wasn’t even in his vocabulary most of the time, so to think he could ever  _ be _ soft was pushing it. The fact still remained, however; he wasn’t interested in long term friendships with anyone in the Inquisition. He would cooperate with whoever he found the least asinine and go from there. Simple. 

“ _ Hmph. Nothing is ever simple _ .”, he thought ruefully in contrast, hearing pooled water splash against the ground from his tunic.

Fighting was simple. Yelling was simple. Destruction was simple. But emotions and civility? Not so much. Not to Fane anyways. Fane glanced over his shoulder, pausing in his wringing to watch Varric still try to keep his balance as they all stood at an angle on one of the coast’s hills. Emerald eyes watched with bemusement as he saw a leather boot finally lose its battle, Varric’s eyes widening in fear as the dwarf literally barreled face first to the ground. 

“ _ There he goes. Knew it was gonna happen sooner or later. _ ”, Fane thought with the same deadpan look on his face as he watched Varric’s entire descent with a bored glimmer in his eyes.

“Oof!”, Varric grunted out as he connected with the soggy earth, groaning miserably as the dwarf attempted to push himself up, “Maker’s hairy ass cheeks! Why did I agree to come here again?!”, the dwarf cried in exasperation, slipping a little as he managed to shakily stand up, the entire front of him covered in thick mud.

Fane went to retort with something along the lines of, “Should have worn more suitable boots for this terrain.”, but Sera’s startling cackles beat him to it. He stuck a finger in one ear to silence the ringing that had sprung up from its pitch. Why was the elven woman’s laughs so shrill, but any other time her voice was normal?! It was almost as bad as the Seeker’s continuous scoffs! Then again, any type of high pitched noise seemed to make his ears ring. That was one dysfunctional thing about himself that Fane hadn’t quite figured out. All he knew was that it was like a high pitched hum and Sera’s laughter was  _ not _ making it any better! Fane threw a glare in Sera’s direction, but the elven woman was too focused on laughing at Varric’s distress to even notice.

“Pfft! Bwahaha! Dwarf down! Y..Ya got a little sumthin’ on your face, Varric! Pfft!”, Sera gasped out between her cackles, nearly falling herself as her whole body shook with mirth. 

Fane tilted his head up to the stormy sky with a quiet groan as his head began to throb more intensely, the chill of the sea breeze doing nothing to soothe it. He was surrounded by idiotic creatures. And  _ he _ was the  _ leader _ of said creatures. How  _ wonderful _ . Fane’s ears continued to ring as Varric groaned and Sera laughed like a hyena at the mud covered dwarf’s misfortune. He turned to lightly knock his soaked head onto the wet bark of a tree. He was really gonna lose his mind at this rate, rage induced entity in his head be damned. Even now, he could feel barely tangible cracks within its walls. Well, this was certainly a better way of doing it, if that would be any consolation to him. Which it wasn’t, but it was the thought that counted, right? Wet, but soft footsteps sounded next to him as Fane continued to repeatedly knock his forehead against the tree’s outer coating. He knew who had walked up to him without even glancing. The mage had a certain gait that Fane could pinpoint almost immediately. It was almost like a..hm. Okay, he could pinpoint how it  _ sounded _ , but actually linking it with something? Not quite. Fane merely let out a sigh when he felt Solas staring at him.

“I’m a little busy, old man.”, he grumbled, his head thumping lightly against the bark as Fane glared daggers into it, “ _ This- _ ”, he started, motioning backwards towards the two fumbling companions while still glaring into the tree, “-is why I lose my shit.”

It was true even though it was a pretty petty reason to get angry. Fane just didn’t have patience or reasoning required to handle these types of situations. He was  _ not _ a people person by any means. For fuck’s sake, he could barely handle himself most days! He heard a quiet chuckle from Solas as the mage moved a bit closer. 

“You elected for them to come along.”, came Solas’s slightly amused voice from next to him as Fane felt the elder elf block his continued assault on the tree with his hand. 

Fane growled, but ultimately relented his knocking as he stood up straight. He had honestly nearly forgotten that the other elf was here. Solas had been so silent the whole way here that Fane almost hadn’t noticed him. Then again. Fane seemed to  _ always _ notice the enigmatic man. Solas had that effect on him. It was like he could sense where the mage was at any given time. Honestly, it was rather unnerving for Fane. It made sense that if you cared for someone, then you could kind of piece together a specific feeling, but an acquaintance? That..didn’t seem right to him. Solas was just..infuriatingly different to his senses. Fane didn’t know how else to put it. He would rehash the whole ‘familiar’ thing, but again, these sensations and emotions seemed to be growing in what they could invoke. He was aware of  _ every _ little snap, crack, or audible sigh that the mage created; even yards away from where Fane would be standing. He could pinpoint the specific pressure and smell of Solas’s magic even when surrounded by other mages. He would detect subtle shifts in expression or body language that spurred Fane to shift to match the situation. So, to say he had ‘forgotten’ was sort of an exaggeration. He had just been..preoccupied. With his own thoughts. Ever since discovering that  _ thing _ in his head, Fane had spent most of his time trying to research with what meager resources were available while keeping his reasoning a secret. The last thing Fane wanted was the Seeker catching on that he had a possible  _ demon _ in his head. Yeah, that would not go over well. He  _ had _ been meaning to ask Solas about it, but..how do you ask such things without raising that person’s own questions? Was he just supposed to go up to the mage and say, “There’s this weird violent thing in my head that beats the fuck out of me almost every night. Know what it is?”? That would not go over any better. Even if Solas had a tad more understanding of strange phenomena than most people. After all, Fane knew the elf liked to explore the Fade just  _ because _ . Solas had likely encountered something like what was in his mind. So, maybe a possible demon that claimed to be a part of him wouldn’t shake the strange mage  _ too _ much? Ehh, maybe not. He would need to find the right words, the right  _ time _ to ask about the nature of the entity inside his mind. He would simply have to endure its ire. 

“ _ I must endure. Always.” _ , he thought with a hint of painful resignation before standing up straight. Fane sighed heavily at the path of his thoughts as emerald eyes shone with glimmering gold, rain pouring down his pale face, meeting an equally as soaked Solas’s stormy blue. The color nearly knocked the air out of his lungs with how much it reminded him of the turbulent sky above, but Fane stamped the feeling down by glaring weakly at the amused mage.

“Elected, my ass.  _ You _ were the one to suggest a swap to distance the Seeker and I. Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t really have a lot of other choices to pick from.”, Fane grumbled out, the corner of his mouth twitching in a small snarl.

“I did. However, you  _ could _ have chosen the First Enchanter, instead of either Varric or Sera.”, Solas stated plainly, the mage dislodging some pooled water from around his collar.

“Oh, and then listen to you mages bickering? No thanks. I’ll go with the lesser evil. Even though it’s right there on the same scale.”, Fane quipped back with a roll of his eyes, tucking his armor in from where he pulled it out to get some water free.

“I would not call it bickering, per say. Just a mere difference in opinion between Vivienne and I.”

“Difference in opinion, you say? Well, whatever helps you sleep at night. I’d rather sleep  _ without _ a raging headache, thank you very much.”, Fane retorted back as Solas merely sighed softly with a tiny smile on his face. 

Fane wasn’t just being difficult to be difficult. Solas  _ had _ been the one to suggest a party mix up. And honestly, Fane was secretly grateful for the intervention even if his current company was just as insufferable. If he had to spend more time being lectured and belittled, then Fane would truly end up killing something, if not the Seeker. Solas had made it abundantly clear, to both him and Cassandra, that Fane needed space from ‘volatile’ situations to help control his anger. Obviously, Cassandra had been apprehensive without a full explanation, even though Solas  _ had _ explained about his emotions and their direct correlation to his mark. Fane remembered  _ that _ conversation rather well. Honestly, he could kind of chuckle about it, that is if the memory of the Seeker literally  _ belittling  _ him hadn’t surfaced alongside it.

“ _ You want me to believe that after that little.. _ **_stunt_ ** _ , he could possibly control himself?! Solas, this is not about just the mark any longer! There is something deeper lying beneath and I need to understand it!  _ **_We_ ** _ all need to understand it! This  _ **_cannot_ ** _ continue!” _ , the Seeker had literally bellowed within Solas’s small cabin as Fane had stayed there for about two days so that the mage could keep an eye on his mark. 

Honestly, those two days had to have been the most peaceful days of his life; apart from still having nightmares of torture and that shade leveling him in his own mind. Other than that, Fane had been practically peachy. Solas hadn’t bothered him too much, only coming on occasion to do some research on his mark which the younger had had no problem allowing since deep down, he wanted a resolution to his mounting problems. However, as with most things, that serenity had been shattered like his mind when the Seeker had practically stormed in to interrogate him. Fane had literally felt the utter  _ doubt _ rolling off of the Seeker in waves when she voiced that she had so little faith in his self control. He didn’t blame her, honestly. Even he was doubting himself now. But had that given her the right to literally stand there and demand answers? No. None of them had any answers, and Cassandra had  _ known _ that, and yet, she still demanded them. Asinine. That’s the only term he could use to describe the human anymore. He remembered his body had literally bristled with agitation at her words before Solas had quickly injected, having seen his rising anger with a mere glance in his direction. It had seemed Fane wasn’t the only one to detect the other’s switches. Then again, his expressions and body language were easy to discern. Rage and irritation were flagrant emotions after all. He remembered Solas staring at him calmly for several seconds before addressing Cassandra.

“ _ I am well aware, Seeker. However, it is not  _ **_my_ ** _ place to divulge such information. That is for the Herald to decide. For now, you must take what is given. No matter how little that is. He  _ **_can_ ** _ control the mark and his rage. I truly believe that. He simply needs time.”, _ Solas had stated firmly.

Fane had been surprised at Solas’s quickness to defend him. It had been like the mage had been acting on instinct more than reason in that moment. Solas literally had more faith in him than Fane himself did in his abilities. It was..what was it? He would say ‘familiar’, but again, everything that Solas said or did felt familiar to him. No, this more..expected. Was that the same thing as familiar? He was running his vocabulary dry. Well, in any case, Fane had almost  _ expected _ Solas to defend him as readily as he had. He just didn’t know if it had been born of a disgusting sense of pride or that nagging sense of recognition that he had with the apostate. Suffice it to say, the Seeker had not relented in the least bit at that.

_ “We do not have  _ **_time_ ** _ , Solas! Who knows how long the Breach will stay stable! Whoever first created it is likely planning to do so again! And with no idea as to who that precisely  _ **_is_ ** _ , we must be swift!”,  _ the then angry Seeker had exclaimed, her agitation had then turned to Solas instead of Fane.

Fane had hated to admit it at time, but he knew the human woman had had a point. Leliana and her scouts had still not discerned the cause of the explosion nor any possible suspects. It was as if the trail had gone cold along with the fires that burnt the people at the Conclave to cinder. The only lead they had was his mark and its proficiency at closing rifts. Which Fane had seemingly been trying to avoid every chance they encountered one. The more rifts he closed, the more sickening the effects they had on his body and his memories. His body would literally shudder to the ground with nausea as the magic coalesced in his veins, and his memories were becoming more vivid, more tortuous as they surfaced. The last memory had been so  _ real _ , Fane had literally ripped away from the rift before it fully shut, much to Cassandra’s dismay and anger. He usually didn’t succumb that easily to his memories, but lately..well, it was obvious his mind wasn’t in the most solid of states. Hence why his heart filled with trepidation upon thinking of the Breach and closing it. What memories would swarm his mind from that large of magical energy? Perhaps it would be the final rock that would shatter his mind.. Which was why, perhaps, he had been reluctant to bite back at the Seeker’s truthful statement. That is, until Solas had once again caught onto his distress with an almost practiced ease. 

_ “Time is  _ **_all_ ** _ we have, Seeker. It is not merely power that will inevitably seal the Breach; it is time. Time to prepare. Time to gain the support you need. Time for the Herald to reign in his emotions. Time moves fast, that much is true. However, you do have control over what to do with the small window of it that has been afforded to you. And I suggest it should be spent focusing on those three sole concepts. Preparation, support, and control. Not on constant squabbles and fear of what ifs. We have constant vigilance on the Breach. We will know if something is about to occur.”,  _ Solas had stated concisely and matter of factly.

Fane had been in awe of the elven mage when he heard his speech. In all of his short life, Fane had never met another elf who didn’t cower behind a wall when challenged by a human. No, Solas had had complete and absolute control over the entire conversation, and the mage had seemed to be once again acting upon instinct. Like..like he had done such debates countless times before. And not for the first or last time, Fane had felt that intense wave of nostalgia prickle at the deep recesses of his mind as he had been unable to tear his eyes away from Solas’s stoned face as he had watched the Seeker’s own. And after what had been a very lengthy staring contest, the Seeker had relented with a defeated sigh.

“ _There is..truth to your words. Very well. We will attempt this. However, when I am not present,_ ** _you_** _will be, Solas. You will_ ** _watch_** _him, not coddle him. Understood?”_ , the Seeker had reasoned with the mage, acting as if Fane hadn’t even been present. 

“ _ I understand. However, it will not be necessary, I’m sure. Have faith in your Herald, Seeker. Otherwise, you  _ **_will_ ** _ fail.”,  _ Solas had said with a note of finality to his words, but the mage had had an unnerving, calm smile on his face that Fane still felt chills from. Solas could be terrifying at times with how calm the elven mage was about certain issues. Even Fane could admit that.

However, Fane’s skin itched with annoyance as the Seeker’s last words rang out in his memory. Coddle him? Watch him? Solas didn’t coddle him nor did he need to be watched! The blighted mage gave a damn when the others didn’t! Perhaps Solas was only concerned about his mark and the potential damage he could cause, but even so, the mage had attempted to close the distance with him; one step at a time. Solas  _ wanted _ to understand Fane. Solas  _ wanted _ to learn about him as a  _ person _ ! He was still unsure as to why exactly, but the fact remained; Solas  _ cared _ even if it was only skin deep. Fane had never expected that from someone that wasn’t his sister. All he had ever received was fearful glares and quiet disappointment. His father had never tried to understand; never tried to reach out to his  _ only _ son! He had used him and tortured him and made him a tool for some unknown ambition! It didn’t matter that he had chosen that course! It should  **_never_ ** have  _ been _ a choice! It was  _ wrong _ ! Just as the world was wrong! Broken, lifeless, solid! He was bound to it all with iron shackles! He was bound, bound, bound-! Fane felt a gentle touch to his marked hand as a sudden pain shot up his arm, his mind snapping back from the brink. He looked down to see the mark crackling dimly, steadily trying to climb up his forearm. Solas was half way between taking a hold of his hand, but mage seemed hesitant. Fane stared intensely at Solas’s hand as it hovered by his forearm.

“ _ He doesn’t know how I’ll react, probably. Grr..why do my damn memories cause me to spiral so easily?! My mind is fixated on wrongness and imprisonment! Why?!” _ , he thought with agitation, his marked hand came to clasp Solas’s cool one without a thought. 

Fane was so close to spiralling once more that he almost didn’t hear Solas let out a quiet cough to get his attention. His head immediately snapped to the elven mage before his emerald eyes flitted down to their joined hands, the pools of green shimmering with gold as they widened. They were..holding hands. Holding hands? Oh..oh..no, no, no! With as much calm composure as he could muster, Fane immediately released the mage’s hand from his own crushing grip, looking away with a faint blush on his rain soaked cheeks. 

“Shit.. Sorry.”, he muttered out, absently shaking out his hand as Solas slowly pulled away to stare hard at his expression. 

Fane ignored the feeling of Solas’s piercing stare as he clenched and unclenched his hand to work out the pain and tension, as well as the embarrassment of having  _ literally _ held the elven mage’s hand like his life depended on it. What was going on with him? To behave like this was not at all how he normally acted! Another thing that was yet wrong! Fane turned his head down to stare at the faint green glow with disdain sparkling in his emerald eyes. He hated this fucking mark.  _ Hated  _ it. 

“Oo, the Herald is glowy~! That shite isn’t gonna explode on us, is it?”, Fane heard Sera inquire directly next to his ear. 

Fane jumped visibly before staggering back, clutching his chest as his heart hammered in his chest from fright. His face twisted into a primal, vicious snarl as the fear abated and was replaced with pure anger. Why would this literal  _ child _ think it was okay to sneak up on him like that?! 

“ **Don’t** sneak up on me like that!”, he snarled, feeling his nostrils flare in time with his now blazing mark, “And  **no** , it isn’t going to fucking explode! Don’t treat me like a damn explosive rune!”, he spat out angrily, squeezing his hand shut to stave off the pain and to try to cover the smell of potent magic.

Sera held her hands up in a show of peace before her eyes flitted to the side, so as not to make eye contact with the raging elf. 

“Oi, I didn’t say  _ you _ , Mr. Angry! I said that  _ thing _ !”, Sera looked back at him to point at his hand before she crossed her arms with a shit eating grin, “And anywho, I wouldn’t call ya a rune! You’re more like a..mabari! With the way you growl and snarl and shite!”, Sera proclaimed proudly as she got her thoughts together. 

Fane’s mind went blank as he felt his mark whip and crack up his arm as numbing rage filled his entire body. He was a..dog? A blighted, fucking dog?! That was the impression he gave this..this..this _half_ _breed_!? Numbness was replaced with searing rage as Fane’s face twisted into a dark snarl, his body went stiff with the urge to lunge at the childish rogue who seemed completely unphased by his rage or posture. Before Fane could even think of acting on his desire to rip Sera’s face off, Solas was immediately next to him, grabbing a hold of his wrist firmly, but gently as the mage pinned his flaring in both of his hands, resolutely stopping some of the wild magic with his own. Fane snarled in warning at the contact and the use of magic as his scars were set aflame with pain before locking eyes with Solas’s stern blue ones. 

“ _ Enough _ . Do not focus on that rage, Herald. Focus past it. Focus on  _ control _ . Do not allow it to consume you.”, Solas instructed him evenly before the elven mage threw a warning glare in Sera’s direction, the elven woman merely shrugging her shoulders at the look, “And Sera, do  **not** instigate. I understand it is an annoying part of your nature, but perhaps it would be best to be  _ silent _ for once.”, the mage continued with a disapproving tone.

Fane watched with boiling rage, his body shaking with the effort of restraining him as Sera rolled her eyes at Solas’s scolding. The act of defiance only made Fane let out another snarl. However, this one was more..in protection than it was of anger. His mind couldn’t grasp the reasoning for it right now since anger still coursed through his body. Fane felt his body inadvertently try to jerk away from Solas’s grasp, but the mage had a surprisingly strong hold. He threw a dark emerald glare at the mage as his dark fury broke for a moment. Solas met his glare without flinching, staring at him firmly. Fane scoffed bitterly at the display, but that did nothing to deter Solas’s unflinching gaze. This elf was truly insufferable and persistent.

_ “Focus, huh? Hard to focus when your rage is so hot you can’t feel your own body! When you have feelings and emotions connected to things that don’t make sense! _ ”, he grumbled within his mind, feeling a nagging tug from the entity housed inside.

“ **_More_ ** _ pity? Then by all means,  _ **_let_ ** _ your mind decay like the earth! Perhaps then I would have **silence** from your pathetic groveling! What a sorry excuse you are for your kind.”,  _ the whisper echoed distantly, but Fane heard it enough to let out an annoyed growl. 

Great. Why was it suddenly here?! Who did this voice think it was? Telling him things he already knew?! He has lived every day knowing he pitied himself like a spoiled child! He did not need the reminder! Nor did he need to be informed he was a sorry excuse for an elf! He thought it would know by now that he didn’t refer to himself as being a part of the race despite the obvious features! Fane didn’t know  _ what _ he was anymore! A tickle against his ear had him nearly snarling with discomfort as the whisper easily heard his thoughts. He faintly felt Solas’s grip tighten even more as well as his questioning stare, but Fane was too interlocked in his own mind to even comment on it.

_ “You still believe that you are an  _ **_elf_ ** _? You truly  _ **_are_ ** _ pathetic.”,  _ the voice made a distinguishable scoff that only made Fane feel even angrier, _ “Sad, isn’t it? To not remember something so important, so  _ **_precious_ ** _? Maybe one day, when you’ve grown up, you’ll realize what it is that you have lost. For I will not be the one to tell you.”,  _ the whisper told him with a hint of mocking disgust before it dispersed from his conscious, the windy feeling upon his ear flitting away.

Fane felt his face twist into that same snarl as he was left with silence, pulling his hand away from Solas’s grasp with an irritated growl. Solas blinked at him a few times when Fane tore his hand away before frowning with minor disapproval, but mainly concern. Fane ignored the prickling of guilt as it tried to wiggle its way into his chest at the mage’s expression, completely occupied with his seething thoughts. He didn’t need these vague riddles. One of the last of his kind? He was, in biological terms, an elf! It was true he didn’t feel connected to the race, but the physical was physical! Pointed ears, angular features! He. Was. An. Elf! It didn’t matter if he hated the physical kinship with those pathetic creatures! He had no way of disconnecting that biological make up! What else was he, if not an elf?! This entity made no sense! As everything seemed to not make sense anymore! Fane growled as he still grasped no answers to any of his questions. He went to turn away from the worried mage before Solas reached out tentatively to his marked hand.

“Herald? Wait a moment, I-?”, Solas started to protest at the sight of his mark still flickering, emerald eyes narrowed at worried blue as Fane released a heavy breath of air through his nose, swiping his face with his marked hand to disperse water as it continued to pool on his skin. He hated that look on the mage’s face. But yet again, he didn’t know  _ why _ ! 

“ _ Enough _ . I’m  _ fine _ . You’re making me  _ sick. _ ”, he muttered darkly, turning on his heel to easily traverse down the hillside, smashing twigs in half and grounding smaller stones into the mud with his boot. 

He  _ wasn’t _ fine, but that didn’t matter. He would  _ never _ be fine even if all the pain disappeared one day. The damage to his mind was already done. But like hell was he going to let his rage win. So, he needed distance. He needed to adopt a more stoic response to barbs and insults. What better way than to run? 

“ _ Run, run. That’s all I ever do.” _ , he thought with disgust as he knocked a small sapling out of the way, the wood snapping loudly. 

Fane didn’t even look back to make sure the others were following him. He didn’t care if they all broke their necks trying to catch up. If they did, it would be an entertaining change of pace for once. Especially if Sera was the first one to crack her empty skull on a jagged rock. Then,  _ he _ would be the one howling with laughter. Fane skidded to a stop half way down as he felt his mind pull harshly, the pain searing behind his eyes as that windy wisp sounded in his ear again. “ _ Again?! No more for fuck’s sake! _ ”, he thought angrily, starting to feel nauseous from both pain and the magic of his mark.

As he was about to let out a growl, the whisper sounded.

“ _ The others don’t matter, that is true. But  _ **_he_ ** _ does. Do not forget  _ **_that_ ** _. You made a vow, even if you cannot remember it.” _ , the entity said before flitting away but not before hitting Fane with an overwhelming headache.

The growl morphed into a snarl as he fisted a hand into his snowy, soaked hair. Would he ever have a moment of peace?! Why was it always painful with this thing?! He rubbed at his head as the pain slowly subsided, emerald gaze slowly glancing back up the cliffside to watch as the others began to follow after him. Sera was literally having to help Varric, since the dwarf looked as if he  _ was _ actually about to snap his neck from how precarious he was teetering. When amber eyes locked onto his emerald, Varric gaped at him in shock. He raised a snowy eyebrow in question. What now? Honestly, Fane had been surprised the dwarf hadn’t interjected when he was fuming, but from the look of caked mud on Varric’s chest, Fane had an idea now as to why the dwarf had been so silent.

“How in Andraste’s name did you get down there so  _ fast _ , Tempest?! Did you literally  _ barrel _ through like a blighted  _ dragon _ ?!”, Varric exclaimed, nearly sending him and Sera to the ground as he gestured a hand towards Fane. 

“Oi, dwarf! Stop yer squirming! I’m  _ trying  _ to help, you know?!”, Sera cried, harshly tugging on Varric’s jacket to keep them both up. 

Fane stared blankly at the two before shrugging at the dwarf’s question. He didn’t ‘barrel’ down. He just watched his footing. It helped when you had legs longer than tree stumps, too. Emerald eyes turned away from the two rowdy rogues as they continued to squawk in tiny bits of fear of falling, searching for the third in his party. With alarming ease, Fane’s searching gaze found Solas who wasn’t having much trouble at all, not like the other two squawking idiots. Solas wasn’t looking at him since the mage was concentrating on his footing, but Fane could see the mage’s face etched in an expression of hard contemplation. Fane grimaced in exasperation at the look.

“ _ Thinking again, huh? Maybe that’s what happens when you spend copious amounts of time in the Fade..”,  _ Fane’s thoughts trailed off as Solas neared the bottom, the mage stopping a few times to tilt his head in thought before managing a small shake of it as if to reject a theory.

Fane felt his ire begin to simmer down, perceiving the cool sea breeze as it washed over his soaked form once again, but he managed not to shiver as the elven mage made it down to him at the foot of the hill. Solas’s eyes were hard in thought as the mage didn’t even look up to acknowledge Fane, still moving around bits of rock with ease. However, Fane’s emerald eyes watched his movements with an alarming awareness as Solas made his way over to him. HIs gaze landed on a jagged stone, which was far larger than the rest, submerged in the sunken earth. He heard Solas pause in his walking once again before continuing, the mage heading straight for the buried stone. 

“ _ Shit.” _ , he thought tiredly before heaving a heavy sigh.

At this rate, the idiotic elf was going to trip and end up like Varric or worse, crack his head off one of the many sharp stones that this place seemed to teem with. The last thought made Fane’s chest tighten with dread as his legs began to move without his consent. What was making him so scared? At most, Solas would simply stumble. The man wasn’t as graceless as Varric was. Far from it actually, Solas was practically grace incarnate. The mage moved with a sort of calculated, but easy stride. Like Solas knew  _ exactly _ where his next footstep would land. The man was confident in many things, and his walking was just another one of those things, but Fane still felt uneasy upon seeing the occupied elf striding towards the jagged stone.

“ _ I don’t.. Ugh.”, _ he scoffed with confusion as he stopped to wait for Solas to acknowledge him. Fane honestly didn’t understand why he had such a fierce desire to ward off any and all possible harm to the mage. He had done it once with Sera’s ‘brilliant’ idea of sending a message with an arrow, and now, he was concerned about a little fall or stumble? He was definitely acting weird. Snowy brows furrowed in further confusion as he closed the distance between the two elves, reaching out to grab a hold of Solas’s tunic, threading his gloved hand into the material. Solas’s dazed contemplation snapped immediately as Fane harshly, yet gently guided Solas around the jagged rock. 

“Herald, what are you-?”, Solas started to ask, looking at Fane in shock.

As Fane watched the mage furrow his own brow in confusion. He merely rolled his eyes in exasperation as he shifted his grip to take a hold of Solas’s upper arm. With surprising gentleness, Fane pulled the mage to his side before stamping the rock into the earth, burying it in the mud. For some reason, the act made him feel a bubble of pride. Fane felt a small satisfied smirk threaten to grace his lips before he turned it into a scowl, looking back at the still confused expression of Solas. He sighed tiredly as his hand absently squeezed the man’s arm. 

“You really are oblivious, aren’t you? The last thing I- _ we _ need is you cracking your head on the landscape.”, he said with a tired voice, trying to cover up his little misstep before grumbling in annoyance, “Stop worrying about me, and focus on yourself. I've told you that before, and I'll continue to tell you until you listen. Again, _stop_ worrying about me, okay? I can do without.”

Fane refused to look over at Solas, but he could feel the man’s searing gaze on the side of his face. Ugh, what was going on?! He was being..gentle? Soft? Friendly?  _ Concerned? _ And all over a possible trip up! He was losing it again. Yup. Utterly. Fane felt his face warm slightly with embarrassment before he heard Solas let out a soft chuckle, the mage carefully patting Fane’s hand that was still gripping his arm.

“It is hard  _ not _ to worry about you, Herald. Especially when your grip is quite strong for a mere stumble.”, Solas stated calmly, no displeasure in the mage’s voice at all, “But..thank you, all the same.” 

Fane blinked a few times before pulling his hand away like the man was hot. Oh. He hadn’t realized he was still touching him. A grimace formed on Fane’s face at Solas’s words as he still refused to make eye contact. He didn’t know what was making him so..desperate, honestly. He just..wanted to make sure Solas was okay. His frown deepened at that thought before shaking his head in defeat. He was so perplexed with everything anymore. 

“Sorry.. I..don’t know what’s going on with me.”, Fane admitted tiredly before turning away from Solas fully, “If you’re..um..okay. Come on. The other two will either make it or die trying. I honestly don’t know which one I’d rather have.”, he grumbled before trudging along the soaked path of gravel and mud.

His pointed ears twitched as he heard Solas let out a quiet chuckle before grabbing Fane’s wrist carefully, his scars only protesting a tiny bit at the contact. Fane stopped immediately, turning a bit to lock emerald eyes with stormy blue. The slightly unguarded look on Solas’s face had Fane’s heart skipping a beat as a warm smile from the mage threatened to burn him on the spot, washing away any chill from the sea breeze. He felt the muscles in his grasped wrist twitch as Solas gave it a light squeeze.

“I am fine. Wet and cold, but perfectly whole.”, Solas said with a gentle tone, his hard eyes never looking away from Fane’s wary emerald pools.

Fane felt his body blaze with warmth at that before a surprising huff of amused air exited his nose, turning his gaze downwards to look at his mud caked boots. What a feeling of emotions this elf raised in him. Fane didn’t know if he should be worried or, dare he say, happy? All he knew was that it was..nice. For once, something was calming and free. He knew Solas was perfectly okay, but seeing the mage as such was..different. He couldn’t understand it, so he simply decided to voice what he was thinking.

“Stay close if you want to stay that way, then. And if I can't reach you then..just be careful until I can.”, he mumbled out quickly before turning away, slipping out of Solas’s grasp to hurry down the path.

Fane put as much distance between the two of them as his face blazed a furious shade of red, trying to calm his panicked breathing. He completely missed the look of soft surprise Solas’s face as the mage murmured out a response, able to hear some of it due to the wind.

“If that is..what you wish.”, Solas murmured out with soft wonder.

And it was, without a doubt, what Fane wished. He stopped his marching to turn back to Solas a bit, holding out a hand slightly to motion for the elven mage. Solas blinked before furrowing his brow in question. The look normally would have exasperated Fane, but instead he only felt fondness. What an odd feeling this was. Fondness? He was never accused of being fond of anything, and yet.. With a gentle jerk of his fingers, Fane motioned for Solas again. 

“Come. Duty calls.”, he said firmly and evenly. 

Solas’s eyes widened slightly at his words before the mage shook his head, presumably to shake off his shock. Fane tilted his head in question as he raised a snowy eyebrow. What was that about? Solas shook his head at Fane’s questioning look before following after him with a small, but sad smile.

“That it does. Lead on, then.”, Solas said plainly.

Fane went to voice a question as to why Solas had looked so sorrowful, but that question died as he saw Sera barrelling down the hill with Varric in tow as the two had evidently lost their battle with the treacherous hill. 

“Look outttt!”, Sera screamed as she and Varric were holding fast to one another.

“Even terrain, dammit! Why did someone make the ground sodding vertical!?”, Varric bellowed.

Fane sighed heavily in exasperation, grabbing Solas’s arm once again to move him from the two rogues’ destructive path. Solas moved with him easily, the mage flicking up a barrier nonchalantly to stop the two from utterly killing themselves. Fane ignored the feeling of nausea as he heard the two rogues hit the barrier with a loud thump before they each slid to the ground with slightly pained groans. Varric let his head rest against the barrier as he threw Solas a grateful grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Chuckles!”, Varric said with a relieved sigh, “Really thought I was gonna die.”

Fane heard Solas let out an exasperated sigh as the mage shifted closer to Fane to give his barrier more room. The action made Fane freeze up a little, but he ultimately was too focused on the two breathless rogues to point anything out. Mainly Sera, who was twisted like a scorpion as he heard an audible groan come from where her face was smashed against the barrier.

“Urghh, I hate magiiiic..”, Sera complained, her gaze flitting up to Fane who was watching with bored interest, “Why didn’t you use that bulky body of yours to stop us?! You’re a literal wall!”, she exclaimed, words warped from her smashed position. 

Fane raised an eyebrow slightly before crossing his arms, shrugging nonchalantly. Why should he risk himself for foolishness? It wasn’t his fault the two idiots didn’t wear proper gear. Anyways, Solas did just fine stopping them.

“Didn’t feel like it.”, he replied evenly.

Sera snorted before pushing off of Solas’s barrier to glare up at him with tepid irritation. He raised an eyebrow again. Oh, was that the best she had for him? He was terrified. Not. 

“Didn’t feel like it?! Oh, but you helped, Mr. I’m better than all of you! You two snogging or something?”, Sera said with a teasing tone, waggling her eyebrows. 

Fane heaved another sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began to form once again. He really was going to rip this girl’s face off. Seriously, where did she get such ludicrous ideas? A high pitched screech had Fane looking back at where Sera and Varric were as the two fell into the mud, the barrier having dissolved suddenly. He furrowed his brow in confusion as emerald eyes looked to Solas who was staring down at Sera with the most disapproving expression Fane had ever seen. 

“ _ Did he..? Heh, he did. _ ”, Fane thought with amusement as he realized Solas had dispelled his barrier at Sera’s crass remark. 

Sera pushed herself from the mud with an angry snarl as Varric simply laid on the ground in a show of utter defeat. 

“What was that for, you stupid twitty mage?! Why’d you dispel your stupid barrier?!”, Sera exclaimed, glaring at Solas as she wiped mud from her face.

“I have accepted that this will probably be where I die. It’s been a good ride, folks.”, Varric said, his gaze blank as it looked to the sky. 

Fane scoffed quietly at the dwarf as he continued to glance down at Solas, who was watching Sera with a blank expression before the mage merely shrugged his shoulders once. 

“I did not feel like holding it up any longer. My apologies.”, Solas said without a hint of remorse, glancing up at Fane for a moment with a very tiny smirk. 

Fane’s snowy eyebrows rose in mild shock at Solas’s take on his own words before he managed a huff of amused air, smirking slightly in response. Yup. This elf was absolute trouble.

“Cheeky.”, he muttered in response, eliciting a larger smirk from Solas before looking back at Varric and Sera with tired exasperation, “Let’s go, you two. Haven’t got all day. I want to meet this mercenary before the sun goes down or the rain picks up. Whatever happens first.”, he said sternly, turning to start walking to the shore line, Solas followed him almost immediately.

That made Fane smile a little as he felt Solas fall into step with him, barely hearing the groans of the two rogues as they scrambled to get up and follow. Fane had to admit, maybe duty wasn’t such a bad concept as long as he had someone to share the burden with. Maybe potential friendship  _ wasn’t _ such a bad idea either, as the two elves led their small pack down the rain soaked path.


	24. Chapter 23 - Cold as Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fane had thought meeting the leader of a mercenary band would be an easy affair. He ultimately thought wrong as more feelings of deeply buried pain continue to sprout forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don't give my boy a break, do I? He really doesn't get one until Skyhold, honestly. Just imagine what's gonna happen when we get to recruiting the templars! Oh boy! That Envy demon, yo! Mm-hm! I actually just played through that part again and I was like, "Oh my god. This is so good. I have so many ideas for this.".   
> Also, Fane doesn't inherently know Bull's a spy. He just knows the cues for reading body language since his father did the same thing. So, let's just say Fane really, really takes a loooong time to warm up to Bull. Especially when Bull explains the process of the re-educators. Oooo, boy. No, no. Psychological torture, am I right? Nuh-uh. NUH-UH.

This..was not what Fane had been expecting when he decided to meet with this mercenary band. Granted, the messenger  _ had _ said that his captain was a Qunari, but had Fane actually believed that at the time? Not really, and now he was paying the price of such doubt as Fane stood before the hulking giant with his arms crossed, covered in equal parts rain and blood. The Qunari was grinning like a champion at him, but Fane could a small amount of shock in the man’s lone eye. 

“ _ Here we go. Every. Time. _ ”, he thought in exasperation, knowing exactly what was about to come out of the giant’s mouth.

As if on cue, the large Qunari laughed loudly, the vibrato literally making Fane’s chest rumble uncomfortably. The young elf grimaced from the sensation before huffing in agitation. Well, it would seem he was quite  _ funny _ to the giant. Who would have thought, huh? At least one of them was amused because Fane sure wasn’t. The Qunari pointed at him lazily with a large finger as his laughter began to die down to faint chuckles. 

“You are  _ not _ what I was expecting! The Chantry must be having a field day with you!”, the man began to laugh again as his eye looked Fane up and down, “Are you sure you’re not part Qunari? You’re not as tall or as broad, but your whole frame isn’t anything like an elf’s!”

Fane’s pale face deadpanned into an unreadable expression as he gripped his wet coat sleeves. Why was his appearance and demeanor always a source of conversation with these people? Varric had commented on how he didn’t act like an elf, Sera had literally flailed at his body when she first saw him, the Seeker was confused by his thought process about the world and how he believed it should work, and Solas liked to point out how Fane didn’t seem to feel a connection with the Dalish. While all of what his companions said was true, in a fashion, did Fane like to be constantly reminded about how much of an anomaly he was? No, he didn’t. The Lord Seeker in Val Royeaux had struck that nerve, and where had it left him? He had nearly razed an entire capital from pure rage! Fane rubbed at his forehead with a wet glove, smearing blood and dirt along his soaked face, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. 

“ _ Relax. Stoicism, remember? Just get through somehow.” _ , he tried to rally himself before looking more completely at the large man, face downturned into a light scowl, “People look different the world over. I’m large for an elf, yes, but I’m not here to wax poetry about my unusual features. I’m here about your blighted offer.”, Fane said bluntly, wanting the Qunari to just get to the point.

The large Qunari raised an eyebrow at him. The action made Fane actively roll his eyes before he shifted weight to the other side, his sword suddenly feeling extremely heavy on his hip. Why was he feeling so uncomfortable? He would chock it up to being wet and cold, but that wasn’t what this sensation was. No, this was entirely internal. Like something about this Qunari was  _ calling _ to him; calling to his  _ blood _ . Honestly, it made Fane.. _ disgusted _ . Why though? It was always why! With a frustrated growl, Fane leveled up at the hulking man with a sparkling emerald glare. 

“ **_Speak_ ** .”, he commanded firmly, irritation bubbling along with discomfort. 

Fane barely noticed that his voice had dropped about a pitch lower at that command, but couldn’t potentially ruminate on it as the Qunari quickly shifted back into that friendly grin. Snowy brows furrowed in confusion at the expression as his face twisted into a deeper frown.

“ _ They always  _ **_smile_ ** _. Are all these creatures masochists?! _ ”, he thought in exasperation once more, rubbing at his face again roughly. 

The Qunari seemed to ignore his exasperated demeanor as the large man pounded his chest with one fist, “Name’s Iron Bull!  _ The _ Iron Bull, actually! I like putting an article in the front to make it seem like I’m just a  _ thing _ . An implement of destruction. I like it.  _ A lot _ .”, the Qunari said with a slight drop to his voice, his single eye sparking with something Fane couldn’t quite understand.

Fane’s face deadpanned as he stared back with a bored glare, utterly ignoring the amused snort from Sera in the back at the giant’s statement. Was this creature serious? Like no. Really. Was he serious?

With a slow, single nod, Fane’s upper lip twisted into a slight expression of disgust, “Uh..huh. Well, whatever works, I guess?”, he said, completely confused by this line of conversation. 

He understood what the Qunari meant. That wasn’t what was confusing him. What was confusing him was the giant actually  _ wanting _ to be treated like an  _ object _ . Why would anyone want to be treated like a piece of furniture or a mere sword? Didn’t all beings want some kind of identity to latch onto, a sort of connection to what made them,  _ them _ ? Fane knew he yearned for that type of connection, even as he balked at every other race. Perhaps that’s why he was so resentful of them all, apart from each having their own brand of corruption, that is. He was treated like a thing without any say. Meanwhile, this..this creature  _ enjoyed  _ it, and actively chose to be referred to in such a way. It made no sense! Fane was so tired of these puzzles and riddles. 

The Qunari seemed to pick up on his confusion, laughing loudly before lifting a hand to give Fane a hard slap on the shoulder, “Don’t think about it too much! It’s just something-”, Bull trailed off as Fane darted away from the descending hand, singular eye widening slightly at the speed at which he moved to the side, “Well, fuck! You’re fast! I saw it during that fight, but damn! It’s like you don’t have all that muscle weighing you down!”, Bull exclaimed in response to Fane’s piercing glare. 

Fane scoffed in disgust before wringing out more water that had accumulated in his armor. Why did everyone always want to touch him?! Does he have a huge sign saying ‘Touch me please!’?! However, he was getting better at seeing cues of when people would think about touching him. As Fane tucked his soaked armor back into place, he sighed tiredly, continuing to glare at the pleasantly shocked Qunari. Was the man seriously that in awe of his speed? Fane honestly felt like he moved slow compared to most elves. Muscle would do that to you, after all. Though, the weight of armor and sheer body mass never bothered him. If anything, it was the one thing about him that seemed natural and easy. Fane would shift with the weight as it pulled on either side, and he would naturally flow with it like a river did with currents. His movements were the one thing Fane felt was natural amid all the other unnatural features. Wasn’t it normal to be comfortable with how your own body worked? He thought so, but apparently Iron Bull thought otherwise. Was the Qunari not comfortable with his own hulking frame? If so, Fane would think he’d rectify it. After all, the man was a mercenary, right? Such warriors needed to know how to fight in any situation, and have bodies that were attuned to combat. From the myriad of silvery scars that littered along the giant’s frame and face, Fane realized combat wasn’t that big of an issue for the large man. He felt himself let out a silent snarl at the sight of proudly displayed scars.

“ _ Must be nice to allow your body to breath.” _ , he thought ruefully before shaking his head in disgust, once again glaring at the large Qunari. Anyhow, he was really getting sick of standing here listening to pointless drabble. He was going to catch a cold at this rate! Supposedly at his piercing glare, Bull gave him a snarky smirk. 

“See something you like,  _ Herald _ ? You  _ could _ do more than look, if you really wanted to. Might work out all that tension that I see.”, Bull said slyly, standing taller suddenly.

Fane deadpanned once again as he crossed his arms across his chest, utterly unimpressed with the flagrant display of the Qunari preening. Did this.. _ thing _ honestly believe Fane was ‘checking’ him out? Truthfully, he did not see the appeal of such a thing. While the Qunari seemed to stir something deep in his blood, Fane knew it was not a comfortable sensation. No, it was something utterly  _ wrong _ . Something unnatural and odd. It actually made Fane feel a little pissed off, not attracted. Not at all. With a haughty scoff, Fane rolled his emerald eyes, gold dancing within them at the action as lightning struck off the coast.

“Oh? Tension? Is that what you think it is? Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's more like unbridled  _ rage _ that’s about to pop off if you proposition me again, Qunari. I’m not at all interested. So, cut the  _ shit _ and get to the point.”, he growled out deeply, his face twisting into an impatient sneer.

Fane watched as Bull’s face made an expression that more or less said ‘Fair enough’ before it smoothed out into a more serious mask. 

“Anyone ever mention you got a chip on your shoulder?”, Bull asked, seemingly amused with him despite the seriousness of his scarred face. 

Fane lifted his chin in an act of defiance before his face went into a full on snarl, gripping his sleeves to where they almost began to tear. He was  _ really _ starting to lose his patience. Why couldn’t this beast just be  _ straight _ with him?! Every one of these people always wanted to beat around the bush, and ignore the real reasons for everything! It was getting  _ old _ ! Inaction and ignorance is what made the world the way it was now! He wouldn’t tolerate more  _ blindness _ in the form of petty banter! 

“ _Your_ ** _offer_** _, Qunari. Stop wasting_ ** _my_** _time_. _Stop wasting the_ ** _world’s_** _time._ ”, he growled out through a clenched jaw, kneading his coat sleeves in an attempt to calm himself, but only managed to agitate his already sensitive scars. 

Iron Bull seemed to watch every one of his movements with a scrutinizing eye. It was if the Qunari was..delving in and piecing him out. Fane felt a slight shiver down his spine as his skin bristled from the notion. He didn’t like this. He  _ didn’t _ like this! He felt like he was under his father’s own assessing gaze right now! That abomination would just  _ stare _ at Fane as he nearly bled out, watching for any kind of reaction, any kind of twitch that signified what the madman had wanted! It was like someone tearing your soul open and shredding it into a million pieces, hollowing you out until naught but a shell remained. It was such an empty feeling. It was lonely. So  _ lonely _ and  _ maddening _ . So utterly  _ disgusting _ and  _ invasive _ ! It was not  _ natural! _ Fane squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“ _ Endure. Endure it.  _ **_Endure it_ ** **.”,** he chanted internally before slowly opening his emerald eyes to glare daggers into the still staring Qunari, “Either you start talking or I’ll  **tear** your throat out and make it talk myself.  **What do you want** ?”, he growled out darkly, his voice dropping several octaves.

The tension in the air felt like a notched bow as Fane glared darkly at the stoic Qunari. The thickness of it made Fane bristle with anxiety as the silence between the two persisted; even his companions were deathly silent. However, he could feel the gazes of each upon his back as they seemed to watch what he would possibly do. The corner of Fane’s mouth twitched into a slight snarl at the feeling, moving an arm down to loop his thumb into the clasp of his sword belt. Why did this always happen?! He was just trying to do what he was sent here to do! Why was that suddenly such a hard task?! Why was he always sent on these blasted recruitment missions?! Because he was the ‘Herald’?! Fuck this bullshit! 

Just as Fane was about to turn away, and say ‘forget it’, Iron Bull cleared his throat audibly. Fane furrowed his brow in question before shifting his weight once again, using his thigh to knock his sword back. Oh? So the Qunari wished to finally speak? About damn time. 

“Ahem, sorry. Was just a little stunned.”, Bull told him evenly before adopting that confident smile once more, “Anyways, what I’m offering is my company to join the Inquisition. You saw how we fought, right? There’s nobody better to join you people.”, the Qunari finished with a prideful air, like a mother hen fluffing her flock. 

Fane hummed in thought, absently rolling a small rock around with the toe of his boot before stamping it into the ground with a harsh crunch, staring daggers up at the giant. He had seen how this company’s men fought, and he could admit it had been impressive. A tad unorthodox, but that’s how mercenaries operated, wasn’t it? They had people from all walks of life that were either in it for money, glory, or oddly,  _ fun _ . This Qunari seemed to be all three with a smidge of something else. Fane crushed another rock under foot as the tension in his body mounted once more.

“ _ He wants something else. Or rather,  _ **_looking_ ** _ for something else. That assessing stare earlier told me as much, but what is it?” _ , he mused internally, letting one arm fall from his chest to loop his thumb into the belt of his sword, watching raptly as the Qunari’s lone eye tracked the movement instantly, “ _ He’s..gauging me. Trying to figure me out. My actions, my ticks, my strengths and weaknesses, what makes me boil over, what makes me relax..” _ , he surmised with narrowing emerald eyes. 

Fane stood stock still for several moments before scowling slightly at the large man. So that’s what this was. This Qunari was trying to piece him together like a puzzle, trying to weedle out his emotions and what made him break. His face hardened into a stone mask as an irritated huff of air left his slightly flaring nostrils. Fane watched as Iron Bull’s lone eye narrowed slightly, the Qunari’s jaw minutely twitching as it locked. Oh, he didn’t like this. Not one bit. Being scrutinized like an  _ experiment _ , like a living paradox with no place in this world other than to be assessed. Everything the Qunari was doing was things Fane’s  _ father _ had done. He had thought so earlier, but now, it was even more clear with how the large giant watched his every move with veiled interest, poked at his already fragmented mind to elicit a volatile reaction, and threw sarcastic remarks and pointless banter to draw out how he would respond. This beast  _ knew _ how fragile he was. He  _ knew _ without even  _ knowing _ the source. Fane felt the edges of his mind slowly darken with tortuous memories as the realization of what this beast was doing to him surfaced, face hardening even further into an impassive expression. 

“ _ I will  _ **_not_ ** _ break. Never again.  _ **_Never again_ ** _.”,  _ he thought with growing vehemence, leveling the Qunari with blazing golden emerald as his face stayed stoic, “We accept.”, he said with a monotone voice, hearing Varric make a surprised questioning sound at his immediate acceptance. 

Iron Bull blinked in the same shock that Fane had heard Varric utter. He stood ramrod straight before the giant, making sure to keep his entire expression and body devoid of any cues as he continued to stare blankly at the hulking man. Maybe it would be best to be rid of this creature, so he would not have to suffer its knowing gaze, but Fane would be lying if he wasn’t a bit intrigued with this Qunari’s possible motive for having an interest in him. However, that didn’t mean Fane would let this idiotic observer  _ break _ him with mind games. No. He would not be  _ broken _ . Not like this world, not like how his father had already done. He had to hold onto whatever little sliver of decaying sanity he had left if he was to make it through this pathetic ordeal, this pointless rush towards death and darkness. And Fane would be  _ damned _ to let this disgusting creature take the rest of what he still had! Not when the Qunari so blatantly showed how he operated, how he  _ dissected _ ! He was not an experiment anymore! He was no longer a plaything to be sliced, bled, and bound for an unknown reason! No. No, he was  _ free _ in a shackled unnatural prison, and he would not be bound with more! Never! Never!

Fane watched as the Qunari continued to watch him in mild shock, his pale face still adopting that stoic, stony mask. 

“Well, uh, wow. That was quick, but I’ll take it!”, Bull proclaimed with another large grin before letting in turn down into a serious frown. 

Fane kept his stoicism intact, but couldn’t help the feeling of amusement rise in his chest at the Qunari’s quick shift. That was all he had needed for an answer.

“ _Ah. There_ ** _is_** _something more.”,_ Fane confirmed his thoughts with a hint of pride, shifting his body weight slightly to account for his sword once more.

He knew the Qunari had had an ulterior motive. Why else would he have so readily reached out to the Inquisition? Especially when the messenger had said this was the first time his commander had  _ ever _ picked one side over the other. He had not forgotten that tidbit, despite all the chaos that the day had brought with it. It had been one thing that sent a subconscious red flag up in his mind. No one did something out of the goodness of their heart anymore. There was always a weak link, a  _ reason _ . Always. 

Fane was a bit shocked at his own perceptiveness, however. It wasn’t like the Qunari was that obvious with his own cues, the giant easily seeming to mask his body language without a thought, but for some reason, Fane was able to clue in on heavier indications. Perhaps because it reminded him of his father? No, that was only one side of this particular picture. No, there was something else. There was something  _ inherent _ in this perceptiveness. But where was it coming from? What was its source? 

“ _ It is because of what you  _ **_are_ ** _ , fool. What you have  _ **_done_ ** _ before. How much longer will you continue to question when the answers are right before you?! _ ”, a familiar voice echoed within the expanse of his mind, tickling his ear with its whispery tone. 

Fane let out a frustrated huff through his nose, keeping his face blank even as irritation rose in his body. There it was again. That blasted, riddling entity. Why did it continue to pester him, to interrogate him with pointless shit?! 

“ _ Why don’t you just speak plainly, you piece of shit? The answers are obvious to  _ **_you_ ** **,** _ but not to me! Nothing of what you say makes sense!”,  _ Fane spat back at the supposed shade, feeling his eyebrow twitch slightly with the sensation of a headache. 

The entity had nothing to say to his response which only led Fane to feel even more frustrated. He was always met with deafening silence to his questions! No answers! None! This, too, was getting  _ old _ ! Fane was so wrapped within his mind, he didn’t even hear the Iron Bull clear his throat, only snapping back when he felt a large hand tap his shoulder. Emerald eyes sparked with furious gold as his stoic facade fell away with the bristling of scars. Dammit! Not what he needed! With a violent jerk, Fane stepped back from the Qunari’s touch, glowering angrily at the now shocked giant. 

“Don’t touch me.”, he commanded plainly, turning his gaze away to look out in the tumultuous waves, “Anyways, you have an ulterior motive, right?”, Fane questioned with a cursory glance, feeling disgusted at the way the Qunari looked at him in confusion, “I know you didn’t reach out to the Inquisition solely out of the goodness of your heart,  _ Qunari _ . No one does that anymore. It’s survival of the fittest in this broken world. However, the way you watch me, poke me, and gauge me tells me everything I need to know. You will not break me. You will not warp me. For I am already shattered into a million pieces; each crumbling into dust under my boot.”, he said with finality, turning away from the now utterly shocked Qunari, “Let’s go. We’re done here.”, he said to the rest of his companions, ignoring the concerned look on Solas and Varric’s faces, and the look of amusement on Sera’s as he carefully slid between the dwarf and mage.

Fane kept a steady, but fast stride as he made his way back the way they had come, pointed ears twitching in irritation at the sound of voices. Great. More gossip. Lovely. 

“That was..rough. What was  _ that _ all about?”, Varric’s gruff voice came from behind, a bit of concern laced in its depths. 

“He’s probably just pissy because of the rain and cold! I know I am! Glad we’re getting out of here!”, Sera exclaimed in response, Fane grimacing with the ringing it invoked in his sensitive hearing, but kept pushing onwards even as he heard the footsteps of his companions finally begin to follow. 

“I do not believe it is that simple.”, Solas’s voice came next, its tone tinged with deeper worry.

“Oh, and you know this  _ how _ ? How do you know what he could be fussing about?”, Sera questioned, scoffing in disgust. 

“I do not. That is the point. I simply believe it is something  _ deeper _ , something that we should not pry open unless the Herald wishes to share.”, Solas responded with a slightly clipped tone.

“I don’t think Tempest is in the business of sharing, Chuckles..”, Varric said with a defeated tone, the audible sound of boots trying to find traction filling his ears. 

“And that is his  _ choice _ , Varric. Not all wish to tell their tales to an audience. The act of sharing is sometimes more painful than the actual memory itself. A person is not a book to be sifted through. Their lives are not carefully constructed paragraphs with perfect punctuation and grammar. Their trials, their  _ pain _ is not an enticing plot twist designed to strike awe in whoever is reading. People are flawed and scarred; their pasts marred with either betrayal or deceit. People are ever changing; their course determined by the events of their lives, not meticulous formation. If all our lives were beautifully written as an age old story is, then we would all happily share its contents, but that is not how the world is, nor shall it ever be. So, we must respect when a person wishes for privacy, for  _ understanding _ , even when they themselves do not fully understand what ails them. Respect is what opens people and creatures to sharing their tales.”, Solas told Varric, the mage’s tone soft and without accusation. 

Fane froze in his marching at Solas’s words, his mind flying through a million emotions tied to every word. His choice? Yes, it was his choice to stay distant, to stay apart because he did not wish to answer painful, painful questions that ultimately led to more agony piled atop agony. He pushed everyone away to keep  _ himself _ safe, not them because of his ire. And he was scarred, warped,  _ broken _ with betrayal and deceit. His father had used familial bonds to bind him, to tame him. The abominations had  _ used _ Fane’s passionate desire to protect his family against him by threatening to use Mhari as a subject! The story of his short life was not pretty, perfect, or clean! It was disoriented, scrambled, and defiled with blood and silent screams, raging madness, and mind numbing torture! Fane rubbed at his face as a shudder borne of pain and emotion wracked his body, faintly hearing Varric call out to him. He was so tired, so  _ done _ with it all. If he could only understand why his father had done what he did, then perhaps the pain would be that much less! But he didn’t understand. He didn’t. And the hope that he one day would dwindled with every nightmare, every phantasmal pain, every berating whisper, and every feeling of intense familiarity to the world around him that was so wrong and broken, so lifeless and colorless. And not for the first time, Fane truly felt bound, enslaved, and shackled even as he claimed he was free. He was not free. He had  _ never _ been free. With a deep sigh, Fane glanced back over his shoulder, eyes tired as he took in the slightly guilty expressions of Solas and Varric as he had caught them talking. The fact that such gossip hadn’t angered him was alarming, but perhaps, he didn’t have the desire any longer to fight. Not today, at any rate. 

“Let’s go.”, he said blandly, turning away slowly to trudge up the hill. 

Fane could feel searing gazes on his back as he delicately traversed the slippery incline. Did he feel those gazes true heat, however? No. He felt  _ cold _ . Cold as the rain and wind that lashed his face and clothing. Cold as the snowy mountains back in Haven as they stood tall and immovable; never shifting from a mere breeze or hardy storm. Cold as  _ ice _ as his blackened soul froze over to guard itself against further chill, just as permafrost developed to protect the ground's inner core from a harsh winter. Fane felt a shudder wrack his body as a physical chill pierced his normally warm body. Yes. He was ice, and ice did not seek an answer as to its creation. It simply  _ was _ . Just as he simply  _ was _ . And what was he? Fane didn’t know anymore, so all he could compare himself to was ice; cold and unfeeling ice. 

“ _ One day, I  _ **_will_ ** _ have answers, but today? Today, I freeze, I encase, and I  _ **_suffer_ ** _ the chill of never ending questions. I am not a book. I am a thin sheet of glassy ice waiting to crack with the weight of my story, my  _ **_life_ ** _. I say I will not be broken again, but that’s a lie. I am breaking as we speak. Every encounter, every ignorant word shatters my mind with more and more memories. And no amount of thick cold water will  _ **_ever_ ** _ protect me from that scorching heat as it melts it all away.” _ , he thought with an anguished grimace, completely ignoring the forlorn look of the elven mage and the looks of confusion on the dwarf and elven rogue as the young elf distanced himself from them further. 


	25. The Edge Between Wisdom and Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts off as a somewhat intriguing discussion, turns into a harsh truth that Fane refuses to accept, even as it follows him like a shadow. A truth of wisdom and pride, and the delicate veil that separates the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally managed to get my butt in gear and pound out a chapter for the main story! I'm so proud of myself! *lays down on the ground* Anyways, nothing too, too plot heavy. Just another inside look into Fane's character and interactions.   
> Anyways, enjoy!

“You recruited a  _ Qunari spy _ ?!”

Cassandra’s incredulous voice shook the small war room as Fane stood beside her, arms crossed as he stared down at the large table with the map of both Ferelden and Orlais plastered upon it. The two of them were waiting for the other advisors to make their way to the meeting when it seemed the Seeker could no longer contain her disbelief about the events at the Storm Coast. Fane had known she would be angry, but honestly, he didn’t give a damn at this point; too worn out from everything that his mind had adopted a numbing acceptance. He was only surprised it had taken her  _ two _ days after he had returned to chew his head off. 

Emerald eyes roamed over the various names and drawn rivers on the map, not once looking up to acknowledge the irate Seeker, “ _ So loud.” _ , he thought absently before reaching over to nudge an errant marker onto its specified spot, “I did. Though, I didn’t know that at the time.”

It was true. Fane  _ hadn’t _ known that the Iron Bull was a Qunari spy until Leliana had informed them all yesterday. He had been so wrapped up in his discomfort surrounding the Qunari that he had just wanted to get  _ away _ , and the easiest way to do that had been to do what he had been sent to do; recruit. And not for the first time since all this shit began, he had messed up. Typical, really. However, there was nothing he could do about it now. 

_ Typical human. Yelling at  _ **_me_ ** _ for something  _ **_she_ ** _ inevitably asked for. I’m not the one in charge, even if I have this blighted mark. If she doesn’t like it, then she needs to take care of it. _

If the Seeker truly didn’t wish for Iron Bull to be here, she could always send him packing, but yet she hadn’t. Fane had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at that thought. Again,  _ typical _ . He shifted his arm to reach for another slightly ajar piece, still refusing to look up at Cassandra since Fane knew he’d end up getting agitated. It wasn’t until he heard an irritated growl that he knew that was a pipe dream. 

“Do you  _ understand _ what this  _ means _ , Herald?! You cannot be  _ that _ oblivious!”, Cassandra barked at him again, slamming a hand down to block his own from fiddling with anymore wayward pieces.

Fane sighed heavily, retracting his hand slowly to place it back within the crook of his other elbow before lifting his gaze upwards to stare at the far wall. Did this woman honestly think he didn’t know anything? He may have been brought up Dalish- a fact that everyone just  _ loved _ to point out still -, but he wasn’t  _ ignorant _ like them. He knew history, religion, and the organizations that went along with them. It was why he already knew so much about the Chantry and the history of its formation. He just didn’t  _ care _ about them enough to be a walking textbook. He was a  _ warrior _ , not a historian. But, he supposed, since the Seeker thought so little of an  _ elf _ , he would educate her with what  _ he _ , as himself, knew.

With a slow turn of his head, Fane’s eyes glanced down at the seething woman, whose face was currently twisted into a deep scowl, and sighed once more, “I’m not an  _ idiot _ , Seeker. I know more than you realize. It’s true I didn’t know what  _ Iron Bull  _ was when I recruited him, but that was because of something completely unrelated.”, he explained firmly, feeling his mouth twitch with the urge to snarl when the Seeker gave him an inquisitive look, “But I know minor details about the organizations within the Qun. I know who and what Ben-Hassrath  _ are _ . They police the people within their society, watching for any sign of deviation from their intended roles. They’re adjudicators first, and spies second. The antaam may be the body of the Qunari, the strong arm, but the Ben-Hassrath is the Qun’s  _ soul _ . If you were to break that soul, render it silent, then the Qunari would have  _ nothing _ .”, he stated with a lazy wave of his hand, “Too bad Tevinter doesn’t seem to understand that yet.  _ All _ of what the Qunari do leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”, finishing with an actual snarl this time, “

He watched as Cassandra stared at him hard for several minutes before the human slowly shook her head, letting out a disgusted scoff after, “I do not know if I should be impressed or annoyed with that response. How do you know so much? It is my understanding that the Qunari are rather..protective of their society if one isn’t directly involved.”, turning towards the map to glare down at it as he had earlier. 

Fane couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that as he turned his gaze back down to the map as well, absently memorizing points of interest in case he needed to know them for later, “Books, mainly. Not the most reliable source of information, but you gather enough to form an understanding.”, slowly reaching out once more to shuffle another marker. 

“You learned about the Qunari through  _ books _ ? Would that not be incredibly risky due to not being able to prove their authenticity?”, Cassandra asked him, tone somewhat curious as Fane noticed from the corner of his eye that she was once again staring at him.

Fane stopped his obsessive shuffling to take a deep breath through his nose. Why was the concept of him being somewhat knowledgeable about the world surprising? Again, he may have grown up among the Dalish, learned their religion and history, but he had always had an odd fascination with discovering  _ more _ beyond the aravels and forests. There had always been some kind of..calling that made him want to observe and learn despite his otherwise attitude of indifference. Sometimes, he wondered if he could be a scholar if he wasn’t so impatient and resentful of the world. Fane let out an amused huff at that assumption.

_ I would be more likely to smash any artifact I came across than study its inner workings.  _

Fane let out another heavy breath at his thoughts, knowing they were pointless, before he turned his gaze back down at the Seeker, seeing the deepness of brown harboring a glint of interest for once, “Who said I  _ only _ used books? You meet a variety of people, whether you wish to or not, when you have no clear home.”, he practically growled before squeezing his crossed arms, having forgone his usual armor for his usual ensemble of the deep green sleeveless tunic and his similarly dark leather wraps, “Also, I know how to decipher nonsense. Which is how you humans write  _ all _ your books. You hide the truth behind flowery words and petty ignorance. Disgusting, really, that people are usually so gullible to inhale it like a fish gasping for air. Thankfully, I know better than to drink poison. Anyways..”, he cut the conversation short, ignoring the look of irritation that flashed across the Seeker’s face from his response, “How much longer until the others get here? I’m getting tired of waiting.”

Fane could  _ feel _ the heat radiating from Cassandra’s gaze as he faintly traced an etching of a river upon the map, mumbling the name quietly to cement it in his mind. That heat alone told him that the Seeker was on the verge of lashing out at him with her tongue. 

_ Hmph. So much for a peaceful day. _

The minute the thought crossed his mind, he heard the Seeker let out a disgusted noise before the scrapping of heavy boots made him glance up from what he was doing, watching with a slightly raised snowy eyebrow as Cassandra made her way to the door leading out into the Chantry’s corridor. Where was she going? The moment the question sounded in his mind, he saw Cassandra look back at him from over her shoulder with a deep frown.

“You are extremely more wise than I gave you credit for, Herald. And not just in this, but with how you view the world as a whole.”, Cassandra started, almost sounding impressed before sighing in defeat with a shake of her head, “However, can you truly stand there and claim you, and you alone, know the truth of the world? That another’s view of it is false? That is not wisdom. That is  _ pride _ , and you have far too much of it.”, tone dropping with hints of disapproval as the Seeker turned her gaze from him to stare at the door, “I just pray it is not your downfall, or we will  _ all _ suffer for that descent. Think on that while I gather the others. Think about what your words, your  _ actions _ , could potentially do if you are not conscious of them. Think about the  _ world _ rather than yourself, Herald. Just once.”, Cassandra finished with a somber, defeated tone before storming out the door, the hard wood echoing off the stone walls as it slammed shut behind her. 

Fane stood in the middle of the room, stunned into utter silence as he continued to stare down at the map, no longer registering any of the names on the thick paper as the simmering of his telltale rage began to make an appearance. The Seeker had called him..proud? What? Was not being  _ ignorant _ suddenly a crime? Was being  _ pragmatic _ such a heretical idea?! He saw the societies of all these blighted creatures for what they were! And they were  _ mired _ in falsities and  _ ignorance _ ! Humans, dwarves, elves, Qunari.. They were all  _ wrong _ in how  _ they _ saw the world! Nothing was sacred to them! Nothing was allowed to be as it should be with them! If wishing to not be warped and obscured was ‘pride’ then he would  _ wallow _ in it! Better that than be like the brainwashed masses that cried and mewled like newborn halla for a parent that didn’t  _ fucking _ care! But the difference in that was the halla’s parents would actually  _ acknowledge _ the pleas of its baby! But no. These pathetic, disgusting cretins would rather turn away from the obvious truth and label it as ramblings of madmen than face it! It was so typical. SO. TYPICAL. 

He slammed the palm of his hands down onto the sturdy, wooden surface of the table, dislodging all the markers he had meticulously replaced with the reverberation as incandescent rage began to blacken his mind, “The world? I should think about the world?!”, he spat out angrily, noticing the mark upon his hand begin to flicker sporadically, “Why should I care one  _ wit _ about  _ their _ blighted world when it has  _ never _ cared for me?!”, he questioned with another slam of his fist, the mark flaring to life upon impact, “No, I would see it all razed to  _ flames _ ! I would see it  _ purged _ ! All of it is wrong. Wrong, wrong,  **WRONG** !!”, he roared, voice dropping into a dark snarling tone as he raised a foot to slam it down into the middle of the table, the thick wood groaning with a resounding  _ crack _ . 

Fane stood before the split table with an unsteady gaze, his chest heaving from his rage and the act of destroying the table. The map was practically shredded from where the heel of his boot had twisted into it, and the adhering markers were either dented or completely broken as a few remnants rolled along the floor, making tiny metallic sounds before they came to a halt. Snowy brows furrowed with confusion at the destruction as well as the dreaded incoming of a familiar headache. 

With a shaky hand, Fane carded a gloved hand through his snowy hair, gasping for air as he tried to calm himself down, “Shit.. What  _ was _ all that? It had been the same thing that had happened to me in..!”, he trailed off as the mark on his hand whipped up his forearm angrily, “Ah, fuck! Damn this thing! Rrgh!”, shooting his other hand down to try and stem the pain with pressure as the magic pulsated through his veins.

He watched as the magic danced up his arm, sickening green tendrils splaying out like glowing ribbons as licked at the residual magic in the air. The more Fane attempted to stem its flow, the worse the lashing would become, to the point that he nearly stumbled forward into the debris of the shattered table. Dammit. He needed to do something about this! Of all times for him to go off the handle, now was not it! Fane let out an angry snarl as he pulled his arm in close to his middle, pushing his thumb into the clean slit across his palm as he shoulder bashed into the wooden door, ignoring the pain it sent down his body. As much as Fane didn’t wish to encounter more of those familiar feelings when he was around the elven apostate, he knew Solas was the only one that could calm this damned mark. He needed  _ help _ , as much as he loathed to admit such a thing. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time Solas helped him, and Fane had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last either. 

_ Pathetic.  _

Was the last thought that echoed through his mind as his shoulder slammed into the door leading out into the Chantry, the mark flaring at the impact once more. And whether that thought was from the entity within his mind or not, Fane would never admit what it was truly born from, even as its shadow lingered behind him like the call of destruction within his mind that was spurred on by its reach. After all, he was getting help, right? Right. Those with pride did not ask for help. And that’s what Fane placated himself with as he stormed through silent halls whose infuriating statues of human religion sneered down at him for his foolishness, knowing with stony eyes for what he was and would always be, and the sight  _ disgusted  _ him in its accuracy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never liked how sometimes the game made your Inquisitor seem..unaware. Fane knows history, he just doesn't share it unless someone prompts him. Sadly, we're still at the point where Fane is very much prejudice and proud, and so his knowledge of history comes out harsh. (Hehe, parallel, parallel.)

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Suledin- Endure  
> Vir enasalin- We must endure  
> Mala suledin nadas- You must endure  
> These translations are from the Dragon Age wiki. I'd recommend reading the page, it's very interesting! Also, there's a theme if you haven't noticed. *quietly inches away*


End file.
